


I Believe (that the words that he told you are not your grave)

by Ash_Cassidy97



Series: Ash Cassidy Series [1]
Category: Alpha and Omega - Patricia Briggs, BRIGGS Patricia - Works, Mercy Thompson Series - Patricia Briggs
Genre: Abuse, Alpha Males, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Awkward Conversations, Awkwardness, Bad Jokes, Cliffhangers, Complicated Relationships, Dirty Jokes, Doctor Who References, Dog Jokes, Fae & Fairies, Fear of Guys, Guns, Half finished dreams, Hate Crimes, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, I knew exactly what I was doing and take full responsibility more or less, I plan to have Samuel's face covered in purple sharpie by the end of this, I'm not sure how but it will happen, Innuendo, Lack of Communication, Magic, Mates, Medical Phobia, Mind Games, Multi, Murder, Pack, Pack Dynamics, Pack Politics, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Sherlock Holmes References, Star Trek References, Strategy & Tactics, Strong Language because the main character swears when she's tired of your bs, Stuff that not really supposed to happen but does cuz I said so, Swearing, Torture, Violence, Warning: nazis, Werewolves, extreme use of sarcasm and snark, nerd jokes, refusal to submit, samuel cornick is an awesome doctor, specifically-bestiality jokes-I'm sorry, stupid Men, the amount of research for this fic is unbelievable-like three hours a chapter-you're welcome, werewolf jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-24
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-16 23:50:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 23
Words: 37,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/545191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ash_Cassidy97/pseuds/Ash_Cassidy97
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay, this started out as me being pissed that women can't go all Lone Wolf in America. IT'S FREAKING AMERICA!!!!</p>
<p>And thus, stories are born.</p>
<p>Ash Cassidy rescues the daughter of an Alpha(*cough Adam cough*) and drives pack structure to hell. Bran is just very confused by this strange woman, and he is not alone.</p>
<p>COMPLETED</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I will name her Kirk and she will be Bran's pesky problem

**Author's Note:**

  * For [morbidcassanova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morbidcassanova/gifts), [Judith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judith/gifts), [sabrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabrina/gifts), [Fantasylover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantasylover/gifts), [roguespeaks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roguespeaks/gifts), [Shadow1290](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow1290/gifts).



Child abusers deserve the deepest depths of hell. I grabbed my bag and fished for a second to find a first aid kit. I turned back to the scared teenager behind me and mentally started calculating the possibility of me being able to escort the bastards who hurt her to hell. I consider myself on very good terms with Lucy, if I do say so myself.

 

* * *

 

*Yesterday*

 

Most werewolves don’t kidnap the human daughter of a very  high Alpha in America. It just isn’t done, because The Marrok is gonna come knocking at your door. The Marrok, Bran Cornick, is like the supreme Alpha of America and is way more than 400 years old. Like by another 200 years at the very least. You don’t get that far and live that long unless your got something going for you. All the Alphas of America, more than a 100 packs, bow their throats to him and his two sons, Charles and Samuel Cornick.

 

That is why I was surprised to hear that Adam Hauptman’s daughter was kidnapped from her school three days ago. Adam was a strong and fierce opponent in his own right and was famous for protecting his people. It didn’t matter if they werewolf, vampire or fee, you didn’t mess with that guy. Also, as a decent person, family and children were always off limits if they were innocents.

 

I hung up the phone on my informant, George. I grabbed my field-kit and started up my truck. My kit included the usual assault rifles and sniper guns with ordinary bullets and silver, knives (silver and iron in an army combat style that were as long as your arm) a well stocked med-kit that included everything that an ambulance had in a separate bag, my cell, laptop and all chargers and forged papers. All these things were in different bags and color coded. The only thing that I didn’t have were clothes and that’s what the money stashed in my glove compartment was for. Very soon I was on the road, after I shut down my bar that I’d owned and worked in for the past two years.

 

My name’s Ash, and I’m something that shouldn’t be speeding down the highway on my way to Arizona. I’m a Rogue Omega female wolf that should’ve been placed in a nice, safe happy pack at birth. That’s never how reality works out. Instead, I was abused and tortured in numerous ways in an unknown pack and have long since lost all trust and hope in authority. I’d managed to escape and crave a life for me with help from George and lone wolves like him. The Marrok, however, didn’t know about me and going to save the daughter of a friend of his was a great way to blow that small cover in a quick move of my guns. The moral debate is that just because nobody got me out of hell but me, doesn’t mean that the same should happen to anybody else. Another thing, is that I actually know where the pack that’s holding the girl. I don’t think that walking up to the door of a frustrated wolf that’s very close to the edge and telling him where to find the bastards is a very good idea to preserve the public’s wary acceptance of werewolves. The Marrok doesn’t like airing his dirty tighty-whities in-front of people. That much I do know about the reserved Alpha.

 

My plan was get in and out with the kid and make for her father’s like zombies were chasing after me with machine guns. I just hoped that I had enough time to kill every single bastards. Then, I’d drop her off with a wave and head off in  a cloud of dust. I honestly doubt that my life is ever gonna be as simple as that.

 

* * *

 

*Twelve hours later*

 

I jumped out of my truck and onto the dusty road silently. I crept up the hill and looked down upon the Wolves’ stronghold. I pieced together the sniper gun and quickly took out the guards. You’d think that people would be smart enough to have this hill filled with cutthroat wolves. Apparently, people need to go back to school. I smiled grimly.

 

The day before was the full moon and most wolves would be knocked out and well into daydream land. Me? My right leg was acting up from old injuries that included massive burns and silver wounds, and I was up and ready due to tons of coffee and paranoia. It didn’t matter to me; it was simply the best time to catch a bunch of wolves unawares. I darted down the hill, assault gun in hand.

 

I ran to the door and started shooting. Wolves leapt at me and died. I had no time to feel remorse or to think twice about their deaths. The entire complex was silver lined and that stopped at hope of using a quick tracking spell a witch taught me. I sprinted down hallways that twisted this way and that, trying to keep my skin whole and intact.

 

The blood of others was dripping down my arms by the time that I found the kid. I was also almost out of ammo. I picked the locks and soon we were away, me half carrying the girl, while shooting with the other hand. She was fast in the uptake and stayed a step behind me the entire way out. We managed to make it out alive.

 

At the top of the hill, wolves still chased us. I turned around and threw several enhanced grenades. They hit the main building and lit it up to the sky. We dived into my truck and sped away, like raving lunatics.

 

After several minutes of intense driving, I looked back to check our progress. Nobody was following my crooked trial. Well, that was something. I glanced over at my passenger.

 

“Kirk,” I said, sticking out my hand. I was a fan of the new Star Trek movies.

 

“My dad send you?” She asked.

 

“Nope, I’m freelancing, trying to save the world and all that BS.” I said. “What’s your name?”

 

“Jesse.” Jesse had brightly dyed hair, hazel eyes and slim figure. I’d put her age at sixteen. She was also covered in blood with her shoulder at an awkward angle.

 

“Okay, we need food and a hotel room to patch you up in,” I said, zipping off at the next exit.

 

“Are you taking me back to my dad?”

 

“Yeah, I’ll get a cheap ass phone so that you can call him. I just don’t wanna be anywhere in the general area when, he shows up. He’ll kill me on principle.”

 

“Why?”

 

“They don’t know me.” I finally found a motel that put the “m” in “motel”. I grabbed a room with two beds, paid fully in cash. It was in the back and faced the McDonald’s drive-through. I parked and carried all my stuff in. Jesse had nothing but the cloths, very shredded, on her back. I’d need to fix that. In the mean time, I’d bought some clothes in a convenience store. I set the bags down on the fall and pulled out the well stocked med-kit. Jesse was sitting on the bed. I dead-bolted all the doors and placed a couple of charms on the windows.

 

I washed my hands and made Jesse strip off her shirt. I grabbed a TV remote and turned the channel to some crime show.

 

“Easy, honey.” With those few words, I slammed her shoulder back in place. Jesse bit down on the cloth that I’d given her beforehand and fainted. I couldn’t blame her, those hurt like a bitch. I quickly stitched her up the best I could and shot her up with pain meds. I’d deal with my own after, I got the kid some food.

 

I walked over to McDonald’s, knowing that Jesse would be out like a light for the next hour, at the very least. I paid for sandwiches, fries and several bottles of water, cokes and root-beers along with three shakes. What? I didn’t know when she last ate and we wolves need lots of food so we don’t start coming down with the munchies for humans. Horror stories broadcasted on the air are often stopped with good coffee and shakes, I’m just saying.

 

Back at the hotel, I managed to set up a good, never-gonna-find-me-kinda line. I hooked up my computer to a my wifi thingy and connected a bunch of my cords to the wall, my laptop and the phone that I bought. I dialed a number to test and George picked up.

 

“Hey, kid, what’s ya doing?”

 

“Swell, just calling you to make sure the line’s good enough for the Marrok,” I said cheerily, waiting for the explosion.

 

“ARE YOU THAT STUPID? YOU, WE, HAVE GONE FIVE YEARS WITHOUT THAT . . . THAT MAN NOTICING US! THAT’S LIKE A FREAKING RECORD! DON’T BREAK IT! GODDAMMIT, ASH, YOU PROMISED!”

 

“So is the line good?”

 

“Yes. And I’m warning you that if you call Bran, I will tell Roe.”

 

“Yep,” I said, doing my best to fight down panic and ending the call.

 

George was the one that brought me home. Roe was the person who taught me that I didn’t need to bow down. She was like the female version of an alpha. Roe was calm and relaxing right up to the point where she needed to kick some guy’s ass, because he’d looked at me. George was the one who gladly jumped off cliffs, with me right next to him. Roe was the one who handed both our asses’ to us when we pulled such crazy stunts. I didn’t even want to think about what she’d do if she found out that I was offering myself up to Bran on a silver platter. She’d kill all three of us: me, George and Bran.

 

Next I dialed Bran’s number. I knew it, because I know people who know people and all that crap. He picked up on the fourth ring and waited for me to speak.

 

“I got Jesse.”

 

“Who are you?” His voice was calm, soft and already trying to know my life story.

 

“The location is a hotel in Bluegrass in Arizona. I’ll get her to Hauptman tomorrow.”

 

“What is your name?”

 

“Kirk, because I’m not yours, goddamnit. I like to think that you’re Nero, FYI.” I hung up the phone. I never said that I had to make this easy for the werewolf.

 

“Phone.” I said, handing it to her, thankful the cords reached and everything.

 

I winced and moved toward the bathroom, bringing along a med kit for the ride. Few people lick their wounds in public and viewer air their dirty undies. Also, Jesse had the right to talk with her father.

 

My leg was easy to patch up. I wasn’t the only one who was hurt by the Pack that had tortured me, you know. After, I came back out to check on Jesse. She was still on the phone.

 

“My dad wants me to keep an open line,” She explained at my raised eyebrows.

 

“Fun and more fun,” I said in a fake, cheery voice. I switched back to my normal tone. “I want to take another quick look at your shoulder.”

 

“Well, I wanna use the bathroom first.” Jesse said firmly.

 

“Yeah, I get that it’s just if you get those injuries damp or wet then you get a week of bed-rest and might have to see a real doctor. You know?”

 

“Yeah, whatever.” God, I feel so bad for George at this moment for having to deal with me when I was like this.

 

“Shoulder.” She gave it to me and I did one of those “Oh, look there’s a squirrel” things and gave her another dose of painkillers. Yes, her father growled at me for his daughter’s pain and Jesse groaned back. Hauptman snarled louder at me.

 

“Pain killers,” I told them both, letting Jesse slid away from me. Jesse turned and went straight into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her and locking it.

 

“Why did you rescue Jesse?” Hauptman asked me, might have known that there were far more important questions to force me to answer.

 

“I don’t like werewolves who abuse children. And if you’re gonna start profiling me with that, good luck,” I said shortly.

 

“What are you?” He sounded wary and weary.

 

“Idk, man. I told Bran Cornick that I was Kirk from Star Trek, so, let’s go with that!” I said in what I hoped was a winning voice.

 

“You have the Marrok’s number?” There was surprise in his voice now. You have to understand, werewolves never live long unless they’re extremely paranoid. Also, it’s like the president of the U.S.A. giving me his private line. You know, because I couldn’t already hack it. That didn’t make my point any pointer, did it? Ah, well.Thankfully, Jesse came back into the room, interrupting our conversation.

 

“Ready to leave?”, I asked her.

 

“Yeah. So you’re gonna take me back to Washington, right?”

 

“That’s the plan. I’m gonna hang up the phone now,” I hung up the phone. We packed up and left.

 

* * *

 

*Several hours later*

 

I drove, entering Hauptman’s territory. I mentally prepared myself for anything. Jesse grew quiet. She had blasted the radio through the whole trip. I’d driven through the night, chugging coffee as I went. It had been a long drive, and the day was not yet over.

 

I pulled up, near Hauptman’s house. I carefully unlocked the door. “You good?” I asked Jesse, as a lone wolf walked out of the house in human form.

 

“Yeah.” She climbed out of the car, and walked up the house. The wolf hugged her. I think it was Hampton.

 

I quickly locked the doors, and drove away in a cloud of dust. I shook the mental images of a smiling Jesse surrounded by Pack away. There was no use dreaming of things that wouldn’t come. I stopped at a 24/7 store, and grabbed some coffee and donuts (food fit for a king). I was walking around outside when I heard them.The noises were coming from an alley. There were whispers of threats, and moans of pain.

  
*To be continued- hopefully not after another two years of nothing*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working title is I Believe(that the words that he told you are not your grave), because it suites Ash a lot.
> 
> I really really want to thank the reviewers that reviewed about three years back, because I started going through the comments a little bit ago, and I felt really bad that I never wrote more than a chapter of this up till now. So thank you very very much(even if you aren't even on the Internet enough), and that would be why the fic is dedicated to them. I honestly can not properly show my appreciation, but know that without you guys, this wouldn't have happened. It goes to show that if you bug me enough, I will do the things. And I am truly sorry for abandoning this fic, and then starting it up again.


	2. Another Day, Another Bad Idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allow me to introduce the supporting cast of this fic. Be very afraid Samuel. Very afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline of this fic: Mercy and Hauptman are together. So it occurs before Silver Borne, but Samuel's mate, Ari, is his mate. And everything works like normal, except Warren isn't Pack yet, and Paul is still an outspoken asshole. I would say that this occurs after Iron Kissed, because I like Ben in that. Ben is an asshole, but he has Reasons. Basically, the Pack structure will be explained and all random bits, because Ash doesn't know the Pack structure or the random bits.
> 
> well, I kinda reopened this fic, because I went back through y'all’s comments and felt bad, and kicked it back in gear. And god, I *miss* Ash Cassidy. I like a girl that says what’s on her mind. Warning: it has been years, years since I've read all of the books and I haven't exactly read any of the more recent ones, because I get mad that Briggs ignores a couple issues like the whole independent female thing (I think she might be changing it with Kara? But we haven’t heard anything on that front from the http://www.hurog.com/forum/index.php?topic=2947.0). But seriously, thank you to all the people that commented on this fic, because you guys (like five people) are the reason why I write and I am very very sorry for the several years late update, forgive me?

 

Last time: _I quickly locked the doors, and drove away in a cloud of dust. I shook the mental images of a smiling Jesse surrounded by Pack away. There was no use dreaming of things that would come. I stopped at a 24/7 store, and grabbed some coffee and donuts (food fit for a king). I was walking around outside when I heard them.The noises were coming from an alley. There were whispers of threats, and moans of pain._

_*To be continued- hopefully not after another two years of nothing*_

* * *

 I hurried down the alley, abandoning my food on the trunk of my car. There were two werewolves gathered. One was attacking and raping the second. I froze for only a split second, rapidly thinking about what to do. One of the wolves smelled like Pack(probably Hauptman’s) and it was one thing to help the Marrok’s Pack, and another thing to attack it. But like I said, I only hesitated for a split second.

 

“Get off him”, I said calmly, raising my hidden revolver. It was loaded with silver. There wasn’t any use attempting bullets on Fae or Vampires. Revolvers are actually the best weapon to use for me, because you don’t have to go back and police your brass, they’re more concealable.

 

“Sorry ma’am, but see, we have to teach fags like him a lesson”, said the wolf that was doing the attacking. He had a gun to the victim’s head. He didn’t stop moving.

 

The wolf tore away from his attacker and managed to run behind me, his pants sagging around his ankles. I gently touched his arm, and stood more firmly in front of him. He was clearly ambivalent about leaving me to handle his rapist, but he stood resolutely behind me. I kept my gaze firmly on the  remaining enemy.

 

The  wolf rushed at me, and I fired quickly. Two shots rang. I’d managed to hit the rapist in both of his knees before he was on me. He fired off a shot, but I snagged the bullet safely out of the air, before it could hit the victim. I fired another shot, hitting him center mass. The wolf tackled me, slamming against my bad leg. I grabbed his arm and let out a quick blast of magic that rendered him unconscious. I shoved him off in disgust and stood up, balancing awkwardly. That move had depleted my magical stores.

 

“Hey,” I turned to the victim, “What’s your name?”

 

He flinched, but met my eyes firmly. “Warren Smith.” He scrambled to get his pants up. He spoke with a Texas southern drawl. “You?”

 

“I’ve been going by Kirk. Are you Lone?”

 

I assessed my injuries. My leg was busted, but I could probably walk and run, if needed, the rapist wolf had sliced up my right arm, and my left had taken on a silver bullet and mostly won. All, it wasn’t great, but I would live. My magic was the major problem. I couldn’t defend Warren with my depleted store of magic, and Hauptman would catch on quicker than I would like to the rapist being missing.

 

“Yep.”

 

Warren’s attitude was quite, calm, and watchful. I didn’t let it fool me for a second. Wolves bluff by snarling and chuffing, but they are most deadly silent. True wolf fights are almost completely silent. I also was not surprised by his status as a Lone, if what the rapist wolf had said was true(Warren being gay). The Marrok’s Pack are very conservative, as is the nature of werewolves. Those that have lived so long rarely change.

 

“Right. Well, you look like you need a doctor,” I said calmly. It was true. Warren was covered in small cuts and I could still smell the stink of blood.

 

“Not anymore than you do.” Wolves are infamous for not liking hospitals. I can’t really blame them for it.

 

“How about, I get patched up enough to work on you?” It wasn’t the best option. But, what was I supposed to do? Haul him off and dump him and the other wolf on Hauptman’s door? And I could probably pass for a human right now. Probably.

 

“I am not getting checked out.” His voice was firm.

 

“Fine. But I still need to call Hauptman and tell him about it.”

 

“Why?” Warren was still soft, dangerously so.

 

“I have a Thing about people getting hurt. I’ve been told that I’m very stubborn about it and meddle too much, and it’s gonna get me killed one day.” I smiled at this. Roe had spent hours lecturing George, and I about the likelihood of us dying.

 

“So you’re gonna call an Alpha up and tell him that you took out a member of his pack?” It was an honest question about a very dangerous undertaking. Like I said, you don’t mess with the Marrok’s Pack.

 

“No. I think I’m gonna call up the Marrok and tell if that if he doesn’t stop this harassment bullshit, there’s gonna be trouble.” And there would be trouble if Bran said anything worrying. I’d stayed away from the Marrok’s Pack out of respect and a heavy dose of fear, but if Bran was encouraging rape . . .well, I wouldn’t sit idly by.

 

“You’re crazy.”

 

“Yep. Come on.” I got him into the front seat of my VM Bug.

 

It was the easiest car to work on yourself, because of the simplicity of it. That was important since I couldn’t exactly take it to a mechanic and magic has the delightful tendency to screw with machinery for kicks and giggles. And I’d needed something was easily overlooked, because if you didn’t know _exactly_ what to look for, you wouldn’t notice the amount of protection on the dull blue, rusting, hunk of machinery. Besides, nobody would steal it between the funky blue color and the fact that it was a stick.

 

I shoved the rapist in the trunk, after tying him up in werewolf proof duct tape. I’m happy to say that he was scrunched in there tightly. And so it went, I made Warren drive to the local Kennewick General hospital, ignoring the bumping noises from the trunk with the ease of experience.

 

Warren parked. I made him wear a rune-protection amulet that would hide his scent. I wore one as well. They wouldn’t make us scentless but make it so we didn’t smell like blood, sex, and Fae magic. Warren still smelled slightly like a wolf.

 

We got out, I locked the car, swung a messenger bag over my shoulder, and we entered the hospital. A common misconception about emergency rooms is that they are full of drama. And yes, there is drama, but there’s also the parents that drag their children there for a common cold. I got the forms, filled them out for myself, and gave them back. The bullet wound would mean that I would get seen sooner than most.

 

Suddenly, Warren stiffed. I picked up an earthy-musky scent. Werewolf. A young doctor had entered the room. The three of us froze. The young doctor carefully made his way over. I greeted him before he got within ten feet of Warren. In my mind, Warren was under my projection. The doc backed off with a calm smile with his forearms barred. His name tag read ‘Dr. Samuel Cornick’. Well, shit.

 

“Hey, Sammy, haven’t seen you since your dad yelled at me for my choice of college. I never did like Blaidd University.” I crossed my uninjured toes, and prayed that Cornick knew the Welsh word for ‘wolf’.

 

“Yeah, never understand why you  didn’t go to Blaidd University. My dad could’ve talked to Headmaster Adams.” Cornick made a gesture at one of the trauma nurses, and signed off on my chart as my physician for the duration of my stay.

 

See, we were playing a game of chicken. I was some supernatural creature that pinged every warning of his to investigate. Whereas, he was the Enemy to me. I have a very rational fear of werewolves, especially the male dominants. And we both wouldn’t want the humans in the room to discover our secrets, but I also didn’t particularly want to follow him into an exam room.

 

“Yeah, well I don’t particularly like your dad. Highly conservative.” All of the freaking subtext.  
  


“Yeah. Come on. I’ll tell you all about what your cousin Jessie has been up too.” Cornick was very very careful to not look at Warren, apart from repeatedly showing forearm, and tilting his neck. Cornick at least was well aware of the current danger. I had a difficult choice to make. Cornick could dial the Marrok’s number if I tried to leave or Hauptman’s or I could follow him and take my chances. I gently reached back, grasped Warren’s arm so he followed me as I followed Cornick.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additionally, I re-vamped this, because Briggs admitted to never going to write a Bran Cornick story and that she hates Leah. Which after reading :http://archiveofourown.org/works/2360405, I can’t say the same anymore. Have, I mentioned how prolific I am on author notes, but not the actual story? Yes, I can profile that as well so hush. I blame thelightwithin for this, as I do with pretty much all of my fanfiction.
> 
> Welsh is Samuel's first language so that's why I chose it. Never-you-mind how Ash knows it, she's magical like that.


	3. Maybe Cornick ain't so bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samuel patches up Warren.

Last time: _“Yeah. Come on. I’ll tell you all about what your cousin Jessie has been up too.” Cornick was very very careful to not look at Warren, apart from repeatedly showing forearm, and tilting his neck. Cornick at least was well aware of the current danger. I had a difficult choice to make. Cornick could dial the Marrok’s number if I tried to leave or Hauptman’s, or I could follow him and take my chances. I gently reached back, grasped Warren’s arm so he followed me as I followed Cornick._

* * *

 

I followed Cornick as he led Warren, and I into an exam room. Warren closed the door behind him. I very carefully did not look at the medical equipment. Hospitals whig me out a lot.

 

“So, what’s your name?”

 

“Well, I told your dad that I’m Kirk.”

 

“Bones, at your service," Cornick responded with a smile.

 

“Right,” I said. “I have an unconscious werewolf in the trunk of my car. He’s been attacked.” I jerked a thumb at Warren. “I got shot, and I don’t particularly like you, Samuel Cornick Marrokson, all Star Trek references aside.”

 

“Okay. Is there anybody that I can call?” Cornick dropped the joking air.

 

“Not particularly. My hand is too fucked up to patch my friend up and I was gonna have to deal with the Marrok eventually. The wolf in my car is one of yours.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“He attacked me and held a gun to my head while he  . . . .," Warren’s voice trailed off.

 

“I see.” Cornick sat down on a stool, putting his head beneath Warren’s. It was a concession that not many wolves would make. I relaxed slightly. “And you stepped in, because . . .?” he asked me.

 

“I don’t like people getting hurt.”

 

“Right. Well, I should do a check on you, Kirk, and one on, what did you say your name was?" he asked Warren.

 

“Warren Smith.” Warren didn’t seem that concerned about giving his name out, because most likely Cornick could look it up with his father or Hauptman. The Marrok likes to keep track of Lones. “And I’m fine.”

 

“Right,” Cornick said with a light sarcastic edge. “Looks like Starfleet is up first. Take a seat.” I jumped up on the exam table, breathing carefully. I really really don’t like medical procedures, but this way Warren could see that it was unlikely that Cornick would harm him. Hopefully, Cornick wouldn’t harm me. “So, you got shot?”

 

“Yeah.” I offered up my hand slowly. Cornick was my best option. He knew the best way to handle injured Supernatural creatures, and I’d heard decent things about his doctoring skills. And to be honest, I wasn’t exactly thinking very clearly at this point.

 

Cornick gently probed at my hand. He wheeled across the room, prepped a suture tray, and wheeled back. Warren remained standing in the corner, closest to the door. I did my best to not completely lose it in front of them. The Pack (if you could even call it that) that had tortured me, had experimented on me as well. The only reason why I cool was because this wasn’t a major injury, the pain wasn’t that bad, and Cornick went slowly.

 

“So you see the new movie?" asked Cornick, trying to distract me from flushing the wound out.

 

“Yep. Benedict Cumberbatch is a bamf. You see the new season of Sherlock?" I asked.

 

“Yeah, what do you think of Mary?” He put in dissolvable stitches, which was good, because I heal at a faster rate than your average human.

 

“I think the bigger question is what happened to the third brother.”

 

“I know, right?” We spent the next few minutes fangirling over Sherlock. Cornick patched up the arm as well as my hand. “So, any other injuries?" he asked me.

 

“Nope.” Cornick stared at me and raised one eyebrow. How do people even do that? Raise one eyebrow? “I got a couple bruises on my leg from the wolf that ran into me, nothing that won’t heal on its own and definitely not worth me taking off my pants. Besides, Warren’s worse off.”

 

“Warren?” Cornick asked carefully, addressing the injured wolf. Cornick kept his head lower than Warren’s and his hands in plain view. Whatever Cornick thought about the rape, he didn’t let any of it appear on his face. Warren didn’t move, but his eyes had a yellow tinge.

 

“Please, I’ll make sure nobody gets hurt and the Doc doesn’t do something he’s not suppose’ to," I drawled.

 

“Fine,” Warren growled softly. He shrugged off his shirt. Cornick grabbed a bright blue blanket from a cupboard, and handed it to Warren. Warren eased himself up on the table next to me, and put the blanket across his lap. “You’re gonna report the attack anyway, aren’t you?”

 

“Hauptman’s going to want a good reason for the attack against his wolf. I’m going to need to tell him something," Cornick responded. The Doc prepped another tray.

 

“I’m gay.” Warren shrugged. “Whatever you tell him, it’s unlikely that he’ll give a damn.”

 

“Hauptman’s raising a sixteen year-old daughter that dyes her hair a different color every other week. Last week it was bubble-gum pink. I think you may be surprised.” He turned to me. “And what happens if Hauptman says that Warren was asking for it?”

 

“I’ll talk to the Marrok. I’ve stayed out of Pack business, mostly. But, if the Marrok sanctions rape, then I’ll start stepping in.” That was true enough. It wouldn’t be a great strategic move, but I wouldn’t let what had happened to Warren happen to others.

 

“You’ll lose," Cornick said. His tone was unthreatening as he cleaned the defensive cuts on Warren’s hands, and his touch remained light.  
  


“Yeah. I will," I agreed easily. He was right. I was completely and totally outmatched to the point of hilarity, but I would still fight. “Doesn’t mean that it would be right to surrender to an outdated philosophy that men can’t be sexually assaulted, and that gays are freaks that deserve it.”

 

“True. Alright, Warren I can get another doctor for the next bit if you want.” Cornick had finished cleaning and bandaging the defensive marks on Warren’s arms.

 

“Do you think I was asking for it?" Warren asked Cornick.

 

“No. Nobody deserves this, no matter who or what they are," Cornick said softly, but firmly. You know? I was starting to like the Doc, despite all logical sense.

 

“Nope. I prefer you.” What Warren wasn’t saying was that Cornick had the best chance of controlling Warren if he started to freak out. Cornick is very Old and very Dominant, although he covers it well. I gently squeezed Warren’s hand. He gripped back tightly.

 

“Alright, I’m going to have to ask you to take off your trousers and underwear.” Cornick turned around to give Warren some privacy. I moved to do the same, but Warren clutched at my hand so I watched as he awkwardly shucked the pants and underwear. Cornick pulled out the dreaded kit.

 

* * *

 

I won’t describe the next bites. Let’s just say that they were highly invasive, gross, and made me wish that I’d killed that rapist. I also expended a decent amount of Omega energy, making sure that Warren didn’t attack anybody. Cornick was professional and kind. And I think that we all made an agreement to delete the details of the past thirty minutes from our minds. Warren was awesome, and only tried to bite my hands off twice.

 

* * *

 

After it was all over, Cornick gave Warren a set of scrubs, and started the clean-up. He scrubbed everything down with bleach that made all of us wrinkle our noses. Warren got dressed, and then we all kinda just stood there.

 

“I guess now would be as good a time as any to call Hauptman?" I asked Cornick.

 

“I’ll testify to your wounds. I should call my dad," was his answer.

 

“Fine. I vote you call Hauptman as well since you’re gonna turn me into the Marrok.”

 

“You do know that my dad isn’t that bad?”

 

“Sure he isn’t, Cornick. Sure he isn’t. OMG what happened if your brother like broke a vase or set fire to the curtains or something?”

 

“Lectures. Long, dry lectures on how disappointed he was.”

 

“Yikes," I muttered. I never particularly had a father figure, and I didn’t want to. George was more like that weird uncle that thinks jumping out of planes is a pleasant activity to do on a Sunday afternoon, like drinking a nice cup of coffee. Roe basically yelled and grounded us.

 

“Yeah. A bit not good.” I smiled at the Sherlock reference as Cornick dialed up his father’s number. I think Warren was still in shock, he even had a blanket. And yet, it was game time. I needed to protect Warren, while dodging the Pack.

 

“Hello?" I could hear the Marrok from the other side of the line. Showtime.

  
*To be continued*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally realized how spaced out my paragraphs are compared to other people’s, and I’m not really gonna try to fix it. It makes it easier for me to correct, because to fix it, I would have to have no paragraphs on Google Docs. Sorry about that. The things I find at 1am. I think Samuel would be understanding of getting persecuted and male rape with being around for over 200 years(probably more like 700) and treating people. That and he was chill with Warren in Moon Called and Kyle being an ass. And yes, Kyle is gonna show up, because I appreciate people that are like ‘I know you hate me for things that I can’t control so I’m gonna be an asshole about it and not attempt to concede to your bigot ideals or hide who I am.”
> 
> Thelightwithin did point out to me that I’m evil to end on cliffhangers, but I do it, because it forces me to write what happens next. I want to know as much as you guys do, I promise. It also forces me to write chapters that are longer than 500 words(used to writing in shorthand).So, I’m being awful to myself as well.( Hush, I profile this as well as the next guy, thank you.) I swear I try to start the next chapter as soon as I post the previous one. *Muse drags author away from notes and back to the actual story*.


	4. Adam Hauptman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, what's Hauptman's decision?

Last Time: _“Yeah. A bit not good.” I smiled at the Sherlock reference as Cornick dialed up his father’s number. I think Warren was still in shock, he even had a blanket. And yet, it was game time. I needed to protect Warren, while dodging the Pack._

_“Hello?” I could hear the Marrok from the other side of the line. Showtime._

_*To be continued*_

* * *

After a brief conversation, Cornick hung up the phone. In short, the Marrok was flying in so he would be here by tomorrow at the latest. I’d told both of the Cornicks that the Pack wolf was safe in the trunk of my car. A flight from Aspen Creek to Tri-Cities took about four hours, and it was already 8pm at night.

 

“I wanted to talk to da before I called Adam," Cornick said, rubbing his face. He’d probably pulled an eight hour shift at the hospital before signing on for Warren and I.

 

“Right. What are you going to tell him exactly?" I asked.

 

“One of his wolves attacked a Lone, and got hurt for it.” Cornick shrugged at me. “Want to add anything or talk to him yourself?”

 

“Not particularly," I responded. The less contact, the better.

 

“Suite yourself.” Cornick grimaced at me, but he dialed Hauptman. “So, you may have a slight problem, Adam.”

 

“What?" asked Hauptman. His voice sounded easy-going.

 

“One of your wolves put a Lone in the hospital. Your friend Kirk stepped in, and he’s in her trunk.”

 

“Where are you?" Hauptman’s voice was calm and steady, but I could hear him already starting his car.

 

“Hospital," Cornick replied.

 

“Be there in ten.” And why yes, the rev of his engine (not metaphorical) came through the phone loud and clear. Well, shit.

 

* * *

 

Cornick moved us to a private room. He also scheduled a family emergency with the hospital administration so he could take the rest of his shift off. Basically, we all sat there in a tense silence. I forced Warren to sit on the bed. Cornick grabbed the stool, and I  sat on the countertop closest to the door. Cornick texted Hauptman the room number and we all sat and waited for the other shoe to fall. I didn’t bother trying to call George. There wasn’t anything he could do, but worry over the recent hole I’d dug myself.

 

A sharp knock startled me from my thoughts. I stood, positioning myself in front of Warren protectively. Warren tried to sit up, but winced in pain. The shock had started to wear off. Cornick opened the door up to reveal the Columbia Basin Pack Alpha.

 

He was 5’10, weighing 180 pounds with dark hard and obvious Slavic descent. Hauptman had a good hold on his wolf; he didn’t blink at me protecting Warren or that Cornick had moved to stand next to me. In wolf language, that was proclaiming Cornick’s truce with me. Doctors are naturally protective of their patients after all.

 

“Adam Hauptman," he said, sticking out his hand.

 

“Kirk.” I didn’t take his hand, thank you very much. ‘It’s not paranoia if they are out to get you’, was the slogan that I lived my life by.

 

“Can you show me where my wolf is?" Hauptman inquired smoothly, dropping his hand. My actions weren’t unusual; many fae don’t like wolves, something about the stink.

 

“Is there a high probability that you’re going to kill me over this, Wolf?" and damn straight my tone was disrespectful. See, the whole point to our showdown was for him to exert power over the proceedings and for me to declare that I was not his. I almost had to bit my lip to keep from saying ‘Alpha’ without a tone of sarcasm.

 

“If my Wolf raped your friend, then no it is not likely that I would kill you for defending somebody against assault.” I noticed that he didn’t say that he wouldn’t kill me ever, just for this offense. His heartbeat was slow and steady, meaning he wasn’t lying or if he was, he was doing one hell of a job.

 

“Trunk of my car. I’ll show you the way. Cornick could you . . .?" I trailed off.

 

“Sure," the Doc said, agreeing to stay behind and guard Warren.

 

I followed Hauptman out, keeping my distance. His second,  Darryl Zao, met us on the way out of the hospital. I led to the way to my Bug, unlocked it, and opened up the trunk. The Wolf glared back at me. He was still all tousled up with charmed duck tape.

 

“Paul," Hauptman growled. He hoisted Paul out of my car, but flinched when he touch the tape. “What is that?" he asked me.

 

“Didn’t your ma ever teach you not to touch silver, Hauptman?" I asked him, as I reached across and ripped the tape off Paul’s mouth. The tape had left a burn mark on his face. He’d be lucky if it didn’t scar. Have I mentioned that I really really don’t like rapists?

 

“Did you rape a man today?" asked Hauptman, making an obvious attempt to control his temper. Seems that rape was a touchy subject for him as well. Ah, I’d heard what happened to his mate a couple months ago. It was all over the news. Should’ve remembered sooner.

 

“I didn’t rape no man.” Hauptman snarled, leaning in close to Paul’s face. “Wasn’t a man. Was a Fag Wolf.”

 

Hauptman gestured at me. I put the duct tape back on Paul’s face. Hauptman shoved Paul back in my trunk and slammed the hood shut. I locked it. “Satisfied?" I asked.

 

“He will be made an example of in front my Pack," was his answer.

 

“Yeah, and what are you planning to do, Hauptman?” I may not like rapists, but I had the firm belief that everybody deserved a quick clean death. It was what kept me from becoming a common criminal or sinking to the level of the ones that had tortured me.

 

“A death quicker than he deserves.” Hauptman sighed and rubbed the back of his head. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.

 

“Hmm. And what is your plan with Warren?" I asked fiercely. It certainly wouldn’t do to save Warren from the frying pan only to have thrown him into the fire.

 

“I was going to offer for him to join my Pack or find him one that suites. I got the feeling that he’s not had good experience with Packs.” Well, that was a pointed statement at me. “Barring that, I am going to make sure that this never happens again.”

 

“Well then, I guess I’ll just be on my way as soon as you get your Wolf out of my trunk.”

 

“The Marrok will want to talk to you. I heard he’s flying in," said Hauptman softly.

 

“Yeah, well I’ve been told I’m not a great conversationalist, but I should tell Warren before I leave.” I started walking back to the hospital entrance.

 

“You know that we’re not the enemy, Kirk," Hauptman kept that same soft tone. I closed my eyes for a brief moment, but continued walking. With Hauptman and his second, behind me, they couldn’t see my face.

 

“Is that an orgy offer, because I feel like that’s an orgy offer? And dude, I do not do second rate bestiality. I do first rate, with Derek Hale, thank you very much, and anyway, I think you’re married.” I had to give him credit, Hauptman didn’t stumble once. Then again, he had a teenage daughter that dyed her hair very interesting colors, and he’d lived through Vietnam.  Uh, to clarify, I do not endorse bestiality, because of the consent issues involved.

 

“Get orgy offers regularly?" Hauptman asked. I could hear the smile in his voice.

 

“I don’t kiss and tell.” I led the way back up to Warren’s room. Everything was okay. I breathed a small sigh of relief. Maybe it would all work itself out.

 

“So, my dad told me to make sure that you stayed here until he shows up," said Cornick warily. I stared at him. I could feel all of the Pack Wolves gaming up for the possibility of me running.

  
Well, shit.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Marrok” in Basque means “Brown”. #I Do My Freaking Research. Seriously, I’ve learned so much random information for this fic. Did you know that Alaska has almost three times the amount of reported rape cases as the rest of the US put together? Or that you can buy your own forensic rape kit online? Or that some dentists are really awesome and specially design offices for people that are scared of dentists or suffered from abuse while others will literally strap small children down with papooses? Who says I’m not educational? Well, thelightwithin read the previous chapter and now kinda wants to either kill me or bargain for this chapter so here it is, because I like living through the next week. Seriously, they may yet kill me or hack my account and update this for me. *pauses*. Nah, that would be nasty.
> 
> I would like to apologize for the bestiality thing, but it is what she would say when cornered by a werewolf.


	5. The Parting of the Ways (but not really)

Notes: A Black Russian is a drink with 50% Vodka, and 50% coffee. It exists. I wrote it, and then found out that it’s an actual thing. Color and look of Ash’s hair if anybody cares:

.

I think Ash keeps her hair short, just long enough for a decent pony-tail, because she doesn’t want it to be something for a person to grab(the only reason I didn’t give her a pixie cut, because it would get in her face, and she would have to style it) I don’t think she’s particularly gorgeous by society’s standard, but I think she’s so damn full of life that it doesn’t matter. Personally, I think she looks kinda like Emma Stone. I know she’s messy, disorganized, blunt, rude sometimes and basically everything women aren’t allowed to be and still be attractive by today’s standards. She has tiny little scars that fleck her face like freckles, but she never tries to cover them up when she doesn’t need to. I think she’s messy in a way, but confident in herself. And that, right there, is why y’all should love her. Oh, and Bran is not going to have a clue what the hell he should do with her. One day, a chapter will be written without prolific notes. Today is obviously not that day. At least, I put the non-vital stuff at the end and not the beginning.

 

If you look at the last 4 digits of Ash’s phone number: it spells Mage. Your welcome.

 

* * *

 

Last Time _:“I don’t kiss and tell.” I led the way back up to Warren’s room. Everything was okay. I breathed a small sigh of relief. Maybe it would all work itself out._

_“So, my dad told me to make sure that you stayed here until he shows up,” said Cornick warily. I stared at him. I could feel all of the Pack Wolves gaming up for the possibility of me running._

_Well, shit._

* * *

See, the thing wasn’t about Hauptman and the Doc. It was about whether or not the Marrok would allow Hauptman to persecute Warren. And yes, I’ve been told that I have little regard for my own safety.

 

“Is the Marrok going to go over your head, Hauptman, and let Paul-y off?" I asked seriously. They had told me the Wolf’s name in the four hour interval. We had mostly just sat there awkwardly.

 

“Not likely, and my da would never endorse rape," Cornick answered for Hauptman.

 

“Besides, Warren’s under Samuel’s and my protection," said Hauptman.

 

“Well then, there’s really no reason for me to stay, is there? Seeing as I’m not a Wolf, and don’t fall under your jurisdiction.” I took a few steps to the door.

 

“Then why did you mess with werewolf affairs?" asked Darryl, Hauptman’s second, finally speaking up.

 

“Warren’s technically a Lone Wolf, and Hauptman’s daughter was human.”

 

“Those are technicalities. You were able to contact us. You knew that I spoke Welsh. You know where Hauptman’s house is. You recognized my name. For somebody that says they keep out of werewolf business, you sure know a lot," Cornick pointed out. His body language wasn’t threatening, but curious.

 

“Yeah. I don’t like werewolves, but I don’t like it when people are hurt. So the question really is, are you going to obey the higher authority?” I smiled at them. There was a 50/50 chance of them doing what I wanted.

 

“I won’t," Cornick said. “If you tell me why you don’t want to stick around.”

 

“And why you don’t like werewolves," added Hauptman. Hauptman meant ‘why are you scared of werewolves’. The one thing Hauptman wasn’t is stupid.

 

I tensed. There was a chance I could beat them. The kinda chance a kid has of avoiding the shovel talk when marrying a mob boss’s daughter or trying to take out three wolves without a decent amount of magic while injured.

 

“I haven’t had the best experience with werewolves. And I don’t like to put myself in dangerous positions with somebody that has a lot of power. Surprising on both accounts, I know. Now, may I leave?” I let my eyes flash a deep, dark blue with flecks of silver.

 

That’s the thing about glamours, you can change tiny aspects of them. Or haven’t you noticed that I haven’t described myself? All the wolves could see what a woman with silver hair and purple highlights in edgy layers, heavy eye liner. In reality, I had amber hair in a ponytail, with no make-up on. I wore jeans and a blank gray long-sleeved T-Shirt that showed through my glamour. The glamour did one very very important thing(well, three actually), it hide my appearance, scent, and the flecks of scars on my face and the larger scars on my body. The only thing the glamour couldn’t hide is the tattoo on my left forearm of Odin’s Illusionary Rune (Norse Rune that meant camouflage and deception, and powered the glamour). I never did say that the amulet was a necklace, did I? I was covered in all kinds of Runes and Magic. I also never said that I was only a Wolf, did I?

 

“Yes," Hauptman said.

 

“You give me your word that Warren will not be harmed in your care? Harm includes neglect or overlooking others doing the harming for you.” I walked right up to Hauptman, and stared at him. I resisted the urge to poke him in the chest, barely. I have a definite Thing about abuse, torture, and rape.

 

“Warren will not be harmed under my protection," Hauptman answered solemnly.

 

“I’ve killed recently," I said softly, not giving an inch. “For yours, and I will not hesitate to kill for mine.” Hauptman nodded his agreement. “While then, I’ll be off. You’ll come with me to get your Wolf?" I asked. Hauptman nodded again. I briefly and carefully hugged Warren, only saying “If you need anything call 412-328-6243”.

 

I shook Cornick’s hand. I was still ambivalent about the doctor. I don’t partuarily like doctors or men or werewolves, he fell into all three categories, but he’d been careful to keep his distance. And well, Hauptman wasn’t holding me which counted as a major win. I left, mentally shaking out my jitters. I talk a damn good show, but if they could smell my fear . . .well, I wouldn’t have lasted a second. Hauptman followed me to my car, and got Paul out of my trunk. Paul got slammed into the parking lot, but I didn’t blink. I absently made a mental reminder to clean the trunk later. I shook Hauptman’s hand firmly, and drove away from the irritation of having to deal with Pack politics.

 

I called on my way home, and tried to do damage control with Roe. It mostly failed. I also did my very best to shake off the thoughts of what the Marrok’s Pack is like. I had a Pack; I like my Pack, and I would never never disown that. Part of the reason that I had contacted Hauptman is that my Pack couldn’t hide on the fringes much longer. But there was no need to worry about it now, safe in my car, driving back home. No, I would need to worry about it in about two months time.

 

 

* * *

 

*2 Months Later*

I spun myself around in my kitchen, singing off key to Emma Blackery’s Promise. I took another cake out of the oven, and turned up the volume. George was off handling some new-comers. Roe was doing something with finances that went straight over my head. I whirled, and popped another cake in the oven. I love cake, the kind that has a slight edge of bitterness to it, and goes perfectly with a Black Russian.

 

I was just pondering the beauty that is pastries, when my burn phone rang. It was the specific one that I gave out the number to Warren. I froze. I hadn’t had any contact in two whole months. I should’ve known that it was too good to be true.

 

I checked the screen:unknown number. I answered it with, “You have reached your overlord of all things supernatural, speak and be recognized, Minion.”

 

“Kirk?” It was Samuel Cornick.

 

“Yeah," I muttered. The correct response is, ‘yes, Mistress, I am (name) and have come to you with the pressing concern of (issue), and request your magnificent help, dear overlord of mine’. Either that or ‘goddamit, Ash, I’m getting shot at’, either code phrase works.

 

“We have a problem.” I could hear a loud crashing sound from Cornick’s end. “A serious problem.”

 

 

 


	6. Herr Mutter

Last Time:“Yeah," I muttered. The correct response is, ‘yes, Mistress, I am (name) and have come to you with the pressing concern of (issue), and request your magnificent help, dear overlord of mine’. Either that or ‘goddamit, Ash, I’m getting shot at’, either code phrase works.

 

“We have a problem.” I could hear a loud crashing sound from Cornick’s end. “A serious problem.”

 

*To be continued*

 

* * *

 

“Give me a minute and make my end more secure. Roe and George would not be amused if they found out who I was talking to. I grabbed my keys, and a go bag. I quickly made my way to my Bug, and locked the doors.

 

“Okay, what’s up?”

 

“A Wolf is missing from Hauptman's Pack.”

 

“When, where, and possible leads?” There wasn’t a question of whether or not I’d be helping. I liked Hauptman, especially after I’d done some more research on him. Apparently, he was a vet, kept a smooth pack with his Coyote Mate, Mercy Thompson-Hauptman.

 

“Tri-Cities, three weeks ago, and no. Calling you was my last resort. I had the feeling that you’re the type of person with shady contacts.” There was no humor in the last sentence.

 

“Right. Where’s your base? Hauptman’s?”

 

“Yes. When can you get here?”

 

“Tomorrow.” I started my engine up. I would call Roe and George from the road, less chance that they could kill me. I once again drove through the night. I stopped at a gas station, and made my calls to a few contacts, and put the word out in the Underground.

 

The thing is that there’s a lot of things that wouldn’t like to attract the attention of either the Grey Lords, the Marrok or a Vampire Den. What, you think there wouldn’t be a black market in the supernatural world. There aren’t many differences, however. With the raise of Fae knowledge in the human world, many humans have gotten involved in my world, and it hasn’t been an overall positive experience, let me tell you.

 

The only thing I couldn’t have accounted for was the news that Cornick gave me over the phone a week later, after I’d already set up in a local motel and was driving around, trying to jog my mind. I’d been keeping away from the Pack, monitoring my own sources, and hacking a few that wouldn’t talk, but we didn’t have anything really.

 

“Da was taken. From the coffee shop," was all he said. It seemed obscure. The Marrok was the most fearsome Wolf in the world at the moment. It would take some major balls to-to. I froze, and almost got rear-ended by the car behind me. “His Mate was taken as well," Cornick added as an after thought.

 

I served, and did a U-Turn across several lanes of traffic, putting the pedal all the way to the floor. Thinking back on it, it was damn lucky that I didn’t get hit or caught by a cop. But, I was on a mission. A mission that was gonna suck and likely get me killed. *Yay*.

 

I told Cornick, “I know who took them. Call you back in three days. If I don’t call back, my plan worked, and I’ll call by you in a month. Trust that. And if this works, you will owe me icecream, pizza, and coffee for the rest of your life. Okay, maybe not, but you will owe me watching Criminal Minds or something.”

 

“Kirk, what-”. I hung up. I tightened my jaw, and my grip on the wheel.

 

The only person that would do something like this was my old Pack.

 

* * *

 

So, my old Pack. It wasn’t technically a Pack, but it was the thing they’d drilled into my head. In reality, it was sorta like some nazi organization that had gotten involved in the supernatural. During WWII, Hitler had authorized experiments on werewolves in hopes to create a specialized unit at the very end of the War. Luckily, the War had ended. Less luckily, parts of the organization had escaped to the US and 70 years later, people started the program up again, but it had taken several years to find supernatural creatures. You see where I’m going with this? Long story short, I was one of the first in their soup bowl of a Pack. They had mixed several of the DNA from supernatural creatures, which is why I can transform into a Wolf, and use magic.

 

Point being is that the Marrok was like the Holy Grail (or the last piece of pizza from your favorite place) to them.

 

* * *

 

Eventually, I reached my final destination. I mentally refrained from making any zombie/inertia/death jokes. I forced myself to step out of the car with my hands in the air. It was going to be okay. George was going to get me out in three days, at the latest. I’d buried anything importance from my car miles back, and wiped anything useful from the car. It was going to be fine, dammit.

 

I stared up at what looked like an abandoned mining town in Nevada. It sat at the base of

Daemon Peak, which it had been named for the blackness of the mountain. At least, I don’t think that the people that named the mountain town had intended for nazis to live here. That would be ironic.

 

“Hey, yo, I’m here to speak with Herr Mutter. She wanted to see me?” The Herr Mutter ran all parts of the group known only as ‘Schatten’, which translates to ‘Shadow’, not very inventive if you ask me. The people that name things do a sucky job. I mean they could’ve called it ‘our bullshit plan’ or ‘we will torture dangerous species’ or ‘how many different ways can this go wrong’. Herr Mutter actually translates to ‘Lord Mother’. Yeah, these people might have a slight issue with naming things; they should look into that.

 

Twelve guards appeared out of no-where to greet me. I kept my hands up. The point of all this was for me to be on the inside, and draw the attention away from the Marrok and his, until George could get us out. Like I said, it should only take three days. One of the guards put metal, magic-restricting handcuffs on me, and searched me for any hidden weapons. I did my best to not break loose. There’s a large amount of difference between fighting and letting yourself be taken for the greater good.

 

The guards led me into the abandoned mining town, into a building with no distinct, outside markings, and thrust me into a group cell, locking a shackle around my leg that was marked with runes. There were already three people in the cell. I ignored them for the moment, and checked out my surroundings. The bars were a mix of silver and iron with runs subscribed into them to make them unbreakable. The cell had a dirt floor, was completely barren besides a dump toilet in the back corner that was too small to crawl out of. The four sides of iron bars were tied to the ground with the runes and a heavy strength of magic that made them irremovable.

 

The room across from the cage was large area that was blocked off with curtains. I already knew that it was the Operating Theater. You didn’t need sterilization after all, if you didn’t care whether or not your patients are going to live. Several of the other buildings were designed to be more steril, but they used this room if they wanted their captives to watch.

 

I turned away and looked to take in the state of the other captives. I sighed in relief: all three were still breathing and looked to be mostly unharmed. The Marrok stared at me.

  
“Ash Cassidy, welcome home," said a tall blond, blue eyed female as she walked forward. She wore a dark blue shirt, black dress pants, and a pair of black heels with red bottoms. Her hair was pinned up in a complex twister knot. She looked more like she should be at a staff meeting of a boring company, not experimenting with supernatural beings. Herr Mutter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that a lot of people hate the first person point of view, and I write it because Ash represents a new perspective on Were society, and that’s how the Mercy Thompson books are written. Okay, I blame Buzzfeed for this; they did an 11 facts about redheads. So, these are the ones that I found interesting:
> 
> 1.)Blue eyes + red hair=rarest combination (whoops, I honestly thought it was red + green eyes) I blame it on the experimentation that Ash has the rarest combination. I didn't do green eyes, because I thought it was cliche. And I almost didn't do red hair for the same reason.
> 
> 2.)require more anesthesia and more resistant to pain blockers-irony and why and how would they test that?
> 
> 3.)thicker hair
> 
> 4.)better at detecting changes in temperature which why would people test that?
> 
> I officially hate the internet. There is such a thing as ‘sexy nazi’ for Halloween. I’m done. I'm sorry for the short chapter, but is easier to cut it year for reasons that you'll see next time. I also apologize for misspelling "nazi" a million times. Let me know if I missed something. Google spell check kind of hates me. A03 didn't say anything about it either, so uh sorry for that.


	7. The Purposely Vague Chapter(because Ash is so done)

Notes:

Briggs lists two spellings of Arielle which are “Arielle” or “Ariele”.

The two months later thing happened, because I find reading through descriptions of months of torture boring to read (and write) so anything useful will be told in flashbacks. (insert cinema sins joke here- kudos to people that get the reference). I also don’t think Ash would like telling people about it, because it wasn’t just her in there.

 

I regret Leah’s death and I’m really sorry, and this was one of the hardest things to write that I actually wrote. I’ve also been told by the voices that I’m gonna die and my killer will wear fur on the inside and have a Welsh accent.

 

This entire chapter was “how vague can I possibly be?” Seriously, I had a score sheet.

Samuel’s shirt is real.

 

* * *

 

Hauptman’s basement from [Hauptman's house](http://members.shaw.ca/jheller/hurog/adamshouse4.html) (which is Brigg’s site for like everything. Basically, this is the best fandom to write fanfiction form a purely research standpoint). The website page with all blueprints is [here](http://www.hurog.com/forum/index.php?PHPSESSID=8f7mumpd9hvoouojleqr3renk6&topic=1081.0).

Last Time:

_I turned away and looked to take in the state of the other captives. I sighed in relief: all three were still breathing and looked to be mostly unharmed. The Marrok stared at me. I ignored him; I couldn't particularly bother to think what he thought about me when I had to figure out a plan to keep Schatten off his back._

_“Ash Cassidy, welcome home”, said a tall blond, blue eyed female as she walked forward. I didn't say anything about such a cliched line. My cellmates flinched back, except for the Marrok, he growled. She wore a dark blue shirt, black dress pants, and a pair of black heels with red bottoms. Her hair was pinned up in a complex twister knot. She looked more like she should be at a staff meeting of a boring company, not experimenting with supernatural beings. Herr Mutter._

_*To Be continued*_

 

 

* * *

 

*2 Months Later*

 

Bran rode shotgun as we sped down the highway in a large black jeep. Arielle, the other Wolf from Adam’s Pack, rode in the back in Wolf form. She hadn’t shifted back since George had barged into the compound, all glamourfied, with an AK-47 yesterday morning. Leah was a cold, dead corpse that had either been burned or buried. Either way, we didn’t have the time to stick around for a flowery funeral. Bran needed to get back to his Pack, and I wanted to curl up in a corner for a month. George didn’t come with us, because he wanted to avoid the ‘why yes, I’m the head of a secret organization that has Issues’. George had given me a prepped bag with clothes, food, and some odd bits. I’d done rough patchwork on Bran, Arielle, and me that would hold for the fifteen hour drive. Luckily, we had been the only ones at the compound.

 

I kept the radio on low. Bran watched the surroundings as we sped past them. His eyes were flashing a gorgeous yellow. Bran’s mask of ‘I’m the local pizza boy, just paying off student loans’ was crackling like wrinkled math notes. It didn’t help that we were all smudged with rusty blood and dirt. I could kill for a toothbrush. George had only supplied some tic tacs.

 

I called Samuel Cornick from the road. I told him, “Be at Hauptman’s by 3am with Bran and Arielle. And I’m gonna need you to look less like you stab people with needles for a living.”

 

“Alright.” Wolves are good at reading subtext. Bran turned his head sharply to look at me as I hung up the phone, he didn’t say anything, just stared. I just keep driving with my right leg propped on the dash. Arielle whined.

 

* * *

 

We made it to Hauptman’s in record time. I jostled my leg getting out of the Jeep, as I grabbed my bag. Bran moved lazily. I let Arielle out. Hauptman stood on the front steps of his house, with a greeting party.

 

I limped up the drive. My glamour was shot to hell by this point. Any magic I had left was being used to keep from keeling over in the dirt. Arielle walked on my right, guarding my injured leg. Bran strolled a couple steps behind with his hands in his pockets, trying to hold up his innocent act.

 

“I wish I had a pun or something, but I don’t so do you have any pancakes?" I asked.

 

“Pancakes?" Hauptman asked as we three stepped up onto his porch. Samuel(easier to keep them straight in my head with first names) keep his eyes down, so did everybody else.

 

“Thank you. Love some.” Hauptman stared at me. “Tell me you have some real maple syrup, not that fake shit.”

 

“Who are you?" asked Samuel. He was wearing jeans and a shirt that said ‘A vulcan in the streets. A klingon in the sheets’.

 

“Glamour thingie, right. I’m Bones or was it Kirk? Anywho-” I stuck my hand out. “-Ash Cassidy at your service. Well, when I say ‘service’ . . . .” Hauptman clasped my hand, ignoring my babbling.  Would you be surprised to know that I’m more scared of dealing with Wolves that probably won’t eat me versus an out of control Marrok? Bran already knew my name from the two months of awesome so there wasn’t any point in trying the glamour thing again. First thing  Schatten does is control your level of magic.

 

“You said something about medical attention?" Samuel asked.

 

“Yeah. Arielle is the least off. Bran’s next, and I’m probably first.”

 

“Alright. There’s a kit in the basement.” Samuel kept his eyes down. Bran kicked my good leg lightly to get me walking. I didn’t blink. Bran is a pushy son of a bitch. I walked into Hauptman’s house and followed Samuel until he led us to the basement stairs.

 

“None of us are real good with lab tables or basements,  Sammy.” He only stared at me. “No to ‘Sammy’?”

 

“How do you plan on doing this then?" he asked calmly. I kicked Bran. He kicked back.

 

“Arielle first, because me and Bran can keep her calm” Arielle whined. “Then Bran, because I can knock him out. Me last, I guess.” Bran kicked back, harder this time. “Problem?" I asked Bran.

 

“Stupid plan.” Samuel and Hauptman froze and slumped further downward, trying to appear submissive. Bran was speaking in his growly voice.

 

“Got a better one?” He only growled. “Do you know any Fae that would be willing to knock me out?” Bran growled louder. “Hush," I told him absentmindedly. He stopped growling.

 

“Zee.” Hauptman’s mate had joined the the five of us in the hallway. I got the feeling that Hauptman had told everybody to lay low for a bit. Me and Thompson-Hauptman haven’t interacted before.

 

“Siebold Adelbertkrieger aus dem Schwarzenwald?" I asked, letting the name roll off my tongue like extra bitter coffee. I don’t like Fae. The Schatten have used Fae to control me before. Not fun. Hauptman’s mate, Mercy Thompson, nodded. “Lovely. Could you ask him?”

 

She went off to call him presumably. I followed Samuel down the steps and into the basement. It was a large communal room that had rows of beds. All of the doors that led off into other rooms were shut, but I could smell the cleaning product. Arielle whimpered and Bran tensed up. I breathed carefully.

 

“Arielle, do you want me to knock you out here or . . .?” She hopped up on a bed, carefully, and laid down. I gently laid a hand over her head, and the other over her heart. My hands glowed faintly blue and my eyes flashed a deeper hue. Arielle fell asleep quickly. I gently took my hands off, because Arielle didn’t have the willpower right now to fight me.

 

Samuel gently picked her up. Bran shifted forward. I kicked him firmly. Samuel led to way into the med center. Me and Bran trailed behind. I didn’t make a suggestion that Bran should stay outside. He wouldn’t. I wouldn’t either. Samuel kept his trap shut.

 

“So, interesting shirt," I said with a slight smile as Samuel laid Arielle on the metal table in the center. I sat on a stool behind her head. Samuel started to scrub up. Bran jumped up on a countertop.

 

“My girl gave it to me, something about ‘how I’m a giant nerd’.” He dropped some tension in his shoulders.

 

  
“Where’s her mate?" I asked suddenly.

 

“Hauptman’s keeping him busy. We figured she didn’t need more people around than necessary. Nobody wants to get Daryl’s hopes up.” I nodded in agreement. “So what happened to Arielle?”

 

“Broken arm and a few cuts.” I didn’t supply how that had occurred. I didn’t say that Leah was dead either. Bran had cut his bonds to the pack immediately after being taken, but Leah hadn’t known how and the Schatten hadn’t allowed Bran to tell her or Arielle how to. Bran had only been able to weaken the bonds so the Pack wouldn’t feel the full effect of the torture.

 

Samuel rebroke the injured arm, set it, and wrapped it up tightly. We carefully moved her off the table and onto a bed in the common room.

 

“Is somebody gonna stay with her?" I asked.

 

“Yo, Mercy!," Samuel called. Mercy came down. Samuel quickly explained. Mercy agreed. Well, one down, two to go.

 

Bran was not amused with having to get up on the table, but he went, growling the whole way. I sat above his head.

 

“Not a good idea," Bran snapped at me when I tried to press him down on his back.

 

“Yeah, well, I can’t patch you up right now, what with my lack of voodoo at the moment. Samuel is unlikely to gut his own father in front of me.”

 

“And if I wake up?”

 

“I trust you to not kill a person. And hopefully Charles will stop lurking at the top of the stairs, and keep watch until I can handle you, alright?” Bran scowled. “Unless you have any better plan . . .?" I asked snarkily.

 

“No," he scowled at me.

 

“Good. Now shut up and go kill some sheep.” I gently pressed him back down and knocked him out in the same way that I’d down with Arielle. Sleep isn’t hard magic, which is strange to insomniacs, but it’s something that the body does and wants to do on its own. You just have to flick the switch.

  
Samuel finally stared at me. He’d contained his shock until now at least. We’d worked together in the initially tracking of Arielle. He knew that I sucked at dealing with Wolves. I’d been surly, blunt and ruffled everybody’s fur at some point.

 

“Why are you able to do that?” He waved a hand at his dad.

 

“Oh, that? Apparently I got Wolf-married. Which is sort of really stupid, and the entire wedding sucked. And let me tell you Samuel White Fang, you should never spend your honeymoon at the Hauptman Inn.” I smirked lazily at him. Get it? Because Hampton Inn? Samuel shut his goddamn trap and started to work on my mate.

  
  
  
*Boom* Author drops mike like a bamf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author: *Boom* drops mike like a bamf.  
> Audience: WHAT the Hell?!  
> Author: Ummmmmmm? See you next time, folks. *runs for their life*  
> Muse: In my defense, that was not what I commissioned. At all.


	8. Zee(the plot thickens)

Last Time:

_“Why are you able to do that?” He waved a hand at his dad._

_“Oh, that? Apparently I got Wolf-married. Which is sort of really stupid, and the entire wedding sucked. And let me tell you Samuel White Fang, you should never spend your honeymoon at the Hauptman Inn.” I smirked lazily at him. Samuel shut his goddamn trap and started to work on my mate._

* * *

 

“What the hell do you mean ‘wolf-married’?" he asked after a long pause.

 

I shrugged. “I think you’re ignoring my awesome Hauptman Inn joke.” He looked unimpressed at me. I sighed. “The Marrok’s Wolf was getting ferral so I anchored him. Which sort of makes you my step-son. Oh dear lord, if you send me one Mother’s Day Card, I will end you. In the most boring way possible.”

 

“Leah?" he asked. He wanted to know what had happened. I barely controlled my flinch. It had been my mistake after all. Samuel kept treating the whip marks on Bran’s torso.

 

“Dead. They had sliced her open in front of Bran on a med table.” My tone turned serious. “I needed to keep everybody sane so I surrendered myself. Supposedly, I’m a favorite.”

 

“So you know these ‘people’?" Hauptman asked. He’d entered the room during my explanation. “Daryl is with Arielle. She’ll be alright?" he asked Samuel.

 

“She’ll live.” Samuel did not say that she would be okay or heal completely. There isn’t a magic trick to forget or deal with torture. “So what exactly happened?”

 

“I’m sorry," I said softly. I don’t apologize easily. “This organization was my responsibility to handle. They’re the Schatten. They are modern nazis. I-I should have known it was them all along.”

 

“You didn’t come to the Marrok or me because . . .?” Hauptman didn’t growl or yell or take up a nasty front with me.

 

“The Schatten have experimented on people for years. They’ve bound their magic up and tortured them in the name of science. I needed to protect those that wouldn’t want y’all to start kicking a hornet's nest. I owe myself to them first, not irritating Wolves," I said firmly. That I was resolute about. George and Roe did not need to deal with the Marrok. They had enough to deal with survivors of the Schatten. I wasn’t the only survivor.“The people that got away are the untrusting sort. They don’t want outsiders meddling in their affairs.”

 

“But you think it will come to that, don’t you?" Hauptman shrewdly asked me.

 

“Yeah. The Fae are already out in the open and I think you knowing that there’s a damn good reason why they hid will make you less likely to kill them, but I don’t really know, do I? And I can’t take that chance. But it’s my fault that they started in on y’all. They’re getting bolder, trying to take over the shire.”

 

“And how to did you get involved?" Samuel asked carefully. Well, that is a loaded question.

 

“I’d rather wait until the Marrok’s around to hear that tale. It’s a bitch and I don’t want to have to repeat it. You almost done?” Samuel nodded.

 

Somebody else knocked and entered the rather spacious room.  Siebold Adelbertkrieger aus dem Schwarzenwald entered the room. I froze, sitting on my stool stiffly. My magic tried to leap out and attack the Fae. My hands itched and my whole body vibrated. I barely kept my eyes from flashing again. I kept my hands on Bran, not wanting to break the circuit of magic. I really really don’t like Fae. They smell all iron-y and bitter until you get used to the taste.

 

“Zee," he stuck out his hand friendly like. I shook it carefully, blocking my magic from interacting with his flesh. I kept one hand on Bran. Bran’s had witches fuck with his head, and while he might trust me, I still felt like magic. Zee looked like a middle-aged German man with calm grey eyes. I knew him to be one of the most powerful Fae in America at the moment.

 

“Ash," I said calmly. The two Wolves stared at me. I stopped. I couldn’t ask for a favor without possibly offending Zee.

 

“I will help you, Protector, for the moment at least.” I carefully hid my shock. I’ve met a couple Fae. They don’t like me. Apparently, I smell ‘off’. “My job is to make you sleep while Samuel heals you, yes?”

 

“Yes," I answered.

 

“Alright. I won’t do anything else while I’m in your head. I promise," he said agreeably. Well, that was easy. “I’ll want an explanation of the Schatten later.”

 

“Swell," I muttered. Why is it never easy? Don’t answer that.

 

“Okay,  I’m done. Adam, could you?" Samuel asked. I gently broke the magic on Bran and withdrew my hand.

 

“He’ll wake up in an hour or so. He should be calm, but . . .," I trailed off.

 

“I’ll keep an eye on him," Adam said easily. Adam gently scooped up his Alpha and carried him out of the room. I stared after them. I really really don’t want to do this.

 

I hopped up on the table. I carefully tugged off my shirt and started unzipping my pants. Bran had only a couple marks. Arielle had her arm broke and a couple cuts. Leah had been tortured to get Bran to talk. The Schatten were experts at interrogation and knew that the best way to torture Wolves was with water. Wolves have a fear of water, because they can’t swim. But I’d gotten there before they could start in on Arielle (Bran could withstand a lot of pain, but not his Pack being hurt). So I got the majority of it, because I knew where the other escapees were. Luckily, I have a high pain threshold.

 

Samuel stared at my scars. “What? Should I be ashamed that I eat pizza instead of celery sticks?" I asked, glaring at him. “Do you not find my body sexy, Sammy?” I shucked off my pants with a grimace. “Should I be ashamed or something?”

 

“No. Sorry. I just figured you might not want to be naked with anybody.”

 

“Yeah, well, I don’t. But there isn’t a point in trying to keep them on if you’re just gonna take them off, is there?” It was true. I’m ashamed of a great number of things so why add shit that I couldn’t control to it? It only took me years to get to this point. “Now are we going to do this or are you gonna stand there and admire my sexy underwear?” I smirked at my technically son-in-law. Ew.

 

“Lay back," Zee said calmly. He took my ex-seat on the stool.

 

“I didn’t ask this, because I couldn’t smell anything with Da or Arielle," Samuel’s voice was kind and practical. “Anything under the underwear I need to check?”

 

I met his eyes squarely. There hadn’t been a chance to shower with the great escape. What I had done in that mining town, I’d done it before, and mostly likely I would have to do it again. “That I can treat myself. They didn’t want to injure my ability to have kids so not much harm.”

 

Neither Samuel or Zee showed any disapproval. I relaxed slightly.

 

Zee put one hand on my head and the other on my heart. He was being gentle. I breathed carefully. I controlled my instinctive flinch when Zee started channeling magic into my body. It itched. A lot. It felt like that highly uncomfortable itch in a somewhat inappropriate spot that you can’t itch in public. You just have to keep still and hope that it goes away. “Try to relax.” The magic reached my mind. It started turning everything down, dimming the lights so to speak. “Don’t fight me. Easy.”

 

I feel asleep cautionately. My last thought was that I was so screwed if Zee decided to mess with my head.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this doesn't help with the surprise, but I prefer short chapters with regular updates. I did warn people that this might not be the climax.


	9. Ash Explains Most of It to Adam's People

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost ended this chapter at Ash’s second drink of water(it was a cliffhanger and it was over 1K), but I prefer to live, and thelightwithin knows where I live. So you get a longer chapter.
> 
> I do apologize for misspelling Hauptman as Hampton. It is a recurring mistake, and I will soon edit earlier chapters to correct it.

Last Time: _I feel asleep cautionately. My last thought was that I was so screwed if Zee decided to mess with my head._

* * *

 

I woke quickly, gasping for breath, magic at my fingertips. My Wolf moaned inside me. I sat up carefully, controlling my urge to wince at the pain. My leg had been ripped to shreds by the Schatten’s cuffs, and it still hurt, even though Samuel had poked around in it. Samuel was reading, sitting in the chair across from the bed I was in. We were still in the basement in the common room with all the bed.

 

Bran lay at the foot of my bed in Wolf form.

 

I nudged him with my good left foot. He only snuggled closer to me. “Great help you are," I told him calmly. Arielle was in the bed next to me, still asleep.

 

“How do you feel?" Samuel asked, not getting up.

 

“Shitty. What’s with your da in fur?”

 

“I don’t know. He just suddenly changed after waking up . . .?" Samuel trialed off in a questioning voice.

 

“Ah. Perfectly normal reaction.” I stared at the Wolf in my bed. He rolled over, and waved his tail, thudding it against my leg. “You want food, don’t you?”Bran jumped off the bed, and looked pleadingly at me. “ One day,” I groaned, getting out of the bed. Samuel carefully didn’t move. I rolled my eyes. “He’s very unlikely to eat you," I said irritably to Samuel. “You gonna change back?" I asked Bran.

 

He growled. I sighed heavily. “Do you have crutches or a cane or something?” Samuel handed me a pair of crutches, still not going anywhere near Bran. “Wimp," I muttered at him. “I vote food, before explanation.” Samuel nodded. He tossed some clothes at me, I was still in just my underwear.

 

“Should we wake Arielle?" Samuel asked.

 

“Nah. She should sleep a little longer," I said easily, putting on the clothes(jeans and a loose hoodie). I didn’t need more people listening to my conversation than necessary. Samuel nodded once again and led the way up to the kitchen.

 

Everybody important was there: Adam, Jesse, Mercy, Charles, Warren, Anna the Omega, and Zee. I slumped into a stool at the kitchen island. Bran laid down at my feet. I rubbed his back gently with my bare feet. I kept my eyes from darting around, barely.

 

“Could-could some-is there food around here?" I stuttered.

 

I do not like talking about myself. I will, often do, talk about anything else. I tried to instill Roe’s philosophy of ‘you haven’t anything to be ashamed of’ and George's ‘fuck them, they know nothing’ in my thick skull.

 

“Sure," Adam answered, moving to start getting things out of the stove. “Pancakes, alright?”

 

“Yeah. Thanks.” I grinned at his teasing tone. We all sat there with the somewhat awkward silence until mounds of pancakes were ready. They didn’t want to threaten me to spill, not with the Marrok acting all possessive. I dug into the pancakes, along with everybody else. Zee and I kept going long after the others, including Bran, had finished. Magic takes a lot out of you, and my Wolf was not amused with the situation. It was too dangerous, and very close to what she wanted, for her tastes.

 

“Right," I said, pushing my plate away. “Please don’t interrupt me. I don’t have that much nerve for this tale, so all questions will be addressed at the end.” They all nodded in agreement. “I do need a promise that you will not go after my friends, because they are not a part of this. I also need Zee’s agreement that he will give me a head start with the Grey Lords.”

 

Zee’s eyes flashed dangerously. I met them firmly. He looked away first. “If your memories are true, I saw only flashes, the Fae owe you a debt, Ash Cassidy. I will give you a head start when I tell the Grey Lords.”

 

I nodded in response. “What do you owe me a debt for?”

 

“The Fae knew of a danger and did nothing, causing your pain and others. They knew of the one you call ‘Herr Mutter.’” Zee’s voice was mild, but I could feel his power flash for a second.

 

“Right. I’ll want to talk to you about that later. Moving right along, a group 60 years ago, Nazis started experimenting with supernatural creatures. They bred Super Soldiers for their own purposes. They called themselves ‘Schatten’, meaning ‘shadow’.  20ish years ago, they created me, half Fae, half Wolf.” I let that sink in for a moment. I kept rubbing my foot through Bran’s thick coat. “I was too rebellious to be a good soldier, so they experimented on me. However, they started outsourcing in the outside world for more experiments. More experiments, more people to patch up after. I-I met two people that helped me to change my perspective. They’re my Pack," I said the last sentence fiercely.

 

Roe and George had been my everything for a long time. The Schatten wasn’t a nurturing place, and Roe had been able to easily win me over with whispered explanations of what cookies were. They were both ridiculously kind to me. They still felt like sunlight and armour.

 

“I can’t really tell you about them," I continued. “Because they would kill me for being this stupid. But they taught me humanity again when I patched them up after the experiments. Eventually, we escaped. We set up an underground society to help people get out of tricky situations, helping people escape Schatten. We grew in number, working to gorilla fight the Schatten. It’s done a fair bit of good, I’ll have you know. The people I look after don’t like large amounts of people. People haven’t been a real good experience for people like me.”

 

I stopped and took a long gulp from my glass of water.

 

“So that’s when I got the news that people had gotten hold of Hauptman’s daughter. And I don’t meddle in Marrok affairs, and never, never something so visible, but it was a kid. And no kid deserves to be scared for their life. So, I got the kid out, and happily dropped her off at Hauptman’s house. Only somebody attacked another person in front of me, and well, I couldn’t let that stand. Y’all know that bit, so skipping that," I didn’t want to talk about Warren’s personal stuff or how shit terrified I’d been of Samuel Cornick, “So, I go away after that matter is cleared up. Except, I get the news that a Wolf has been taken. So I go to try to help find her, but the Marrok and his mate get napped as well.”

 

I stopped for a moment, thinking on how much I could tell them. I drank some more water.

 

“I didn’t have time to plan a rescue. The Schatten are well armed and methodical. So, I did the best thing I could do, I offered myself up on a platter. See, I was a favorite of theirs. It was a whole lot of not fun.”

 

I didn’t talk of the torture or the pain or the humiliation that went on. It wasn’t mine to share. It belonged more to Bran and Arielle than it did to me.

 

“They killed Leah, bled her out on a table in front of Bran. I didn’t know what to do. Bran’s Wolf was out of control, but the Schatten were had too much control over his Change. I distracted them with myself, and offered Bran a mate-bond when I could. He took it, because we still had three weeks until my Pack would rescue us. Bran needed to be alive and sane. It’s not a permanent solution and it shouldn’t be.” Bran growled low at that. “Shut up," I told him gently, still petting him with my left foot. “So, skip ahead three weeks, my Pack came and got us out, barely. I drove myself, Bran and Arielle here, and that’s really the end of it.”

  
I sat there, waiting for everybody’s reactions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it ended here, but this was as far as I got with mapping it out page by page in my head tonight/this morning, and while I do have an idea of how I want it to end, I still have no idea of the in between and the ending can always change. Basically, be patient with the short chapters, because I'm working hard to wrap this up before the end of summer, at the latest(I only have about ten chapters left to write).
> 
> Audience: TEN MORE CHAPTERS OF HELL?!  
> Author: I do it out of looooove.  
> Audience: Go screw yourself.  
> Author: [insert joke here].  
> Audience: 0_0  
> Author: *calmly walks away*
> 
>  
> 
> I shouldn't post things this early in the morning(12:31 am). Yeah.


	10. Part 2 of Ash Explains Most of It to Adam's People

Last Time: _I sat there, waiting for everybody’s reactions._

* * *

They all sat there shocked. I didn’t blame them. I had basically admitted that there’s a secret side to the secrete side of the world. I stood up, and limped over to the stove, and started fussing with Adam’s coffee machine. I avoided their eyes. Bran got up, stretch, paced over and sat next to me. I set up and started the coffee.

“Do you have cream?" I asked Hauptman.

“Yeah. Third self in the fridge, to the left," he said in an absent kind of way. “How long were you with the Schatten?" he asked suddenly.

“I don’t really know. I got out about three years ago.” I shoved the sudden rush of memories back into my steel metal box.

“Why don’t you like the Grey Lords?" Jesse asked.

“Because they might start their own experiments," Zee answered for me. I nodded in agreement, adding the cream to my mug of coffee and took a long gulp, needing the caffeine. “Which is why you need to start looking for allies," Zee finished quietly.

“I need to make sure that the Marrok, I include all you Wolves in that, knows that there are torture survivors that can shape shift. I’m not saying that you have a claim to us, but we can help each other sometimes, and if I wasn’t here, Bran would be dead," I said calmly.

George and Roe knew all of this, but they couldn’t do anything about it. George was the leader of my Pack, and he couldn’t be captured or it would be as bad as Bran. I wasn’t attached to them directly, and I had enough skill to manage on my own, unlike most of the Schatten escapees. Basically, I was to be treated as spy behind enemy lines for the moment. Most of the people in this room would grasp this; supernatural survives because of knowing the battleground.

“What experiments did they do on Bran?" Samuel asked gently. He really meant ‘what are they looking for’?

“They were messing around with Pack bonds. They wanted to learn how to control the Marrok and his Wolves. They failed by the way," I said easily. They would’ve been affected if the Schatten succeeded.

“But you were able to Bond him to you?" Samuel continued. It was a threat. I met his eyes calmly.

“I don’t like Wolves, Samuel Branson," I said firmly. “I wouldn’t fuck with Wolves on a good day. And I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be around one all the time. I’ve killed people that have tried to bind Wolves to them, being bound gives a person a little something extra on how not to be an asshole, Wolf," I said snidely. I’d put up with a lot, okay? And I’d been through hell to keep Bran sane and alive so yeah. Samuel looked away first.

I get it; it is easy to pair off the lady that is terrified of Wolves with the biggest Bad out there, but that’s not this story, okay? Bran will get over his emotional attachment, and find somebody else. I can go back to getting people out of the Schatten. Simple, clean cut. My Wolf snorted at me.

  
  


“Next question," I said firmly.

“So why trust us?" Mercy asked, finally speaking up. She met my eyes squarely. I would expect nothing less from the woman who made her own way in this world.

  
“Because, Hauptman isn’t an asshole, Jesse missed her dad even though he’s a protective son of a bitch, Warren smells happy, and none of you need to be where I’ve been. I don’t need to trust you to want to help you. I just need to know that I’m not bargaining for more trouble down the road, and if I am, that’s it’s worth it. I trusted you enough to know that you wouldn’t kill me on site, because I don’t trust you enough to bring Bran to my Pack. I gave you the information you needed to keep yours safe, and to give me a head start. Trust you? Never. Count on you to do the right thing? Possibly.” I smiled at them cheerfully. “I like to know where I stand with people.”

That was all true by the way. I didn’t dare lie with several Wolves and one powerful Fae in the room. I like staying alive; there’s ice cream and coffee.

“And your plan is what exactly?" Warren spoke up.

I shrugged at him. “Get Bran bonded to somebody else” Bran whined at me. “Hush, you know it’s not proper. I’m 1/75 of your age. It makes you look like a man whore.” He grumbled at me, but I ignored him. “I need to contact my Pack, because they only gave me 24 hours to contact them again-," but what was interrupted my Hauptman's ringing phone. “Ah.” I reached over and snagged it up. The others just watched me. It was a blocked number. I grinned suddenly.

“Hey," I answered it calmly.

A robotic voice asked, “Please tap once for emergencies, twice for come get me, and three times for safe, thank you for your input.” I flicked the mouthpiece once. They all stared at me.

“Code," I explained. I shrugged. George sets the precedence on paranoia. “I get another two weeks.” I hung up the phone. “Any other questions?" I asked calmly. They all shook there heads; they needed time to think over what I had told them. “Alright, I’m gonna go keep watch over Arielle.” I stood up, and walked down to the basement, Bran followed me.

I warded the room so those up stairs couldn’t hear us. Arielle was still passed out from exhaustion and magic. I gently brushed her mind. She’d sleep heavy for another three hours at the least. I turned to Bran.

“Mind changing back?" I asked lightly, gently pushing at our bond. “We need to talk.” I didn’t add, about your possessiveness.

He shifted back slowly. I kept watch. Him being naked wasn’t anything new, the Schatten had a thing against clothing. He stood to his feet, and looked at me.

“We have to-mmmmh-”

  
Bran attacked me, with his mouth. I froze.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:I drew a mental list of everything Ash actually said versus what she left out for this chapter. Who am I kidding? I had to write it all down on paper, because Ash is freaking sneaky and hates people. I liked the ending of this chapter.
> 
> *smiles evilly*


	11. Hypnophobia

  
Last Time: _“Mind changing back?” I asked lightly, gently pushing at our bond. “We need to talk.” I didn’t add, about your possessiveness._

_He shifted back slowly. I kept watch. Him being naked wasn’t anything new, the Schatten had a thing against clothing. He stood to his feet, and looked at me._

_“We have to-mmmmh-”_

_Bran attacked me, with his mouth. I froze._

* * *

I shoved him off, whacked him across the face, and screamed “WHAT THE EVERLOVING FUCK, CORNICK?”

 

“We’re mates," Bran said carefully, looking at me like I was the crazy one.

 

Have I mentioned that there wasn’t a lot of time to talk during the escape or in the car, since Arielle was there. Mates are insanely personal for people, think losing your V-Card, plus sexuality plus what you really said to that asshole in Economics. Talking about mates in public is like explaining sex to your parental figure. Yeah. Exactly.

 

“Yeah, no, we’re not, buddy.” I waved my hand between us. “Platonic. Platonic. And what was your plan? Attack me with your mouth and hope I’m on board?”

 

“Yes?" He said it like a question.

 

“What do you know about emotional transference?" I asked calmly, getting my breathing back. The asshole smiled, because he could hear that my heart rate had gone up with that kiss.

 

“That’s it’s when you get feeling for your therapist. It happens when somebody helps you out, and you get emotionally attached to them.”

 

“I like to think that people become closer after being waterboarded together," Bran said dryly. “Something about the smell of puke.”

 

“Look, we would kill each other. I hate Wolves. I sure as hell am not going to have sex with you-”

 

“So? Relationships don’t need sex," he said calmly. I waved my hands at him.

 

“Yeah, but not people with a demon inside of them.” I flinched at my words.

 

“You think he’s a demon?" Bran’s voice was soft.

 

“No," I said, equally soft. “But we both need time, alright. You need time to mourn, and I need time get my feet back under me.”

 

Here’s the thing: I like Bran. He’s trying to do the same damn thing I’ve been doing: keep everybody safe. That means romantically bonding his Wolf to somebody, but not me. But I can’t blame him for trying it with me.

 

“You know I’m not going to stop trying.” Bran was infamous for hating lies, even lies of omission.

 

“Awesome sauce. I’m not gonna stop pushing you away. Now, can you put on some clothes?" I nearly yelped, because I was at the end of my rope. I’m strong, not infallible.

 

Bran grinned at me, with all of his teeth. I smirked back, raising one eyebrow. He put a pair of sweats on, still smiling wolfishly at me.

 

“So what’s your plan?” Bran’s voice acquired a calm tone to it.

 

“I don’t know really. I need to call some of my friends up, but I figured I’d stick around until you’re on your feet.”

 

Bran only nodded. He’d already declared war on me; there wasn’t much else for him to say. I knew exactly what lay underneath his calm facade.

 

* * *

 

 

And that’s how I ended up spending the next three days at Hauptman’s house. It was weird. I’d stayed because of Bran, and my bum leg, and yeah, I was fucking curious. Shut up about the cats, okay, man? Cats are not to be trusted. I’ve been reliably informed when I followed the pigeons. Side note: don’t drink sixteen cups of coffee to avoid sleep, not with Wolves and a doc in the house.

 

“Ash?" Samuel’s voice was quiet.

 

“Hmmm?" I asked distractedly. Can squirrels see color? No, seriously, can they? Do they use it to distinguish between the best nuts or do they use sense?

 

“C’mere.” Samuel gently grasped me by the arm and pulled me out of the kitchen. I resisted. Bran came into the kitchen.

 

“But there’s the- the- sugar and coffee and baking shit to use.”

 

“Yeah, but I hear sleep can help with all of that.”

 

“Nah, I don’t wanna blow up Adam’s house. He’d get all snarly.” Bran gently took my crutches away from me, handing them to Sam.

 

“I’m going to pick you up.” Bran did just that. I pressed my head against his shoulder, breathing in his scent. Two months is a long time, enough to learn how somebody smells. Bran smells rain, fresh and mourning at the same time, and like an old, wood burning stove with that smoky, sparky smell of wood, fire, and metal.

 

He carried me to a spare bedroom, placing me on the bed. I felt, rather than saw, him shift. His Wolf pushed me into the bed, and laid next to me, with his head pressed against my hip. I tried to get up, but the Wolf only growled and pushed his cold, wet nose against my skin. I stopped my moving.

 

* * *

  _Arielle was scared, but Bran’s eyes were cold blocks of ice that a dog had pissed on to get them bright yellow. I stared at him, not looking at anything else as Herr Mutter strapped me down on the Board with rune enchanted shackles. I didn’t thrash. That was the deal: if I corporated with the experiments, they wouldn’t touch the others._

_I didn’t scream when they turned the hose on or got the rag out. I did not thrash when they tilted the table at a 45 degree angle so my feet were higher than my face._ Pretend it’s only a game. _The Schatten wanted to know how long I could withstand water boarding without passing out or dying. The others didn’t scream when they started. They knew their part was to show no emotion. I kept my eyes firmly on Bran’s._ Pretend it’s only a game of chicken.

* * *

 

I woke suddenly. Bran still lay beside me. I could hear people talking about me in the kitchen. I snuck out the bedroom, in my bare feet. I was still wearing a pair of sweats and a large grey hoodie, shaking off the memory. Hauptman and Samuel were talking in the kitchen.

 

“Do you think we can trust her?" Hauptman asked seriously.

 

“Not much choice, but yes, I don’t think she’d go to all this trouble to kill us.” I withheld my sigh of relief.

 

“Do you think she’ll ever heal?" Arielle asked. She had woken up three days ago. Darryl had been her rock ever since.

 

“Doubtful," said a new Wolf in a British accent. “You don’t heal after these things. You move on or break.”

 

Bran came out the bedroom door, fully human with clothes on(for the record).

 

“You want her to stay, don’t you?" Mercy asked.

 

“I think she won’t," Hauptman responded.

 

“But?" Mercy probed.

 

He sighed heavily. “I think she wants to, and that scares her. I’d like to see that her Pack know what they’re doing with her, and why they let her challenge the Marrok.”

 

Bran just looked at me. I rolled my eyes at him. He knew better than anybody that you couldn’t make me do anything. Bribe? Yes, especially with caramel chocolate. Force? Yeah, no. You’d have better luck getting Bran to wear a pink frilly dress. Bran nudged my shoulder, pushing me down the stairs.

 

“My Pack is none of your concern, Alpha," I said, walking into the kitchen. I didn’t say that my Pack would flip their shit if they knew what was happening. Bran flicked at me; he knew that ‘Alpha’ is an insult to me. Like I said, Wolves haven’t been a real good experience for me.

 

“You instigated that they would attack my house if we tried to hold you," Hauptman said calmly.

 

“Mhh. They wouldn’t, not now, not when they think I might be being highly stupid.” I grinned cheerfully at him. “My Pack knows knows better than attack you, Hauptman, especially since I told them not to.”

 

“And you’re leaving," the British Wolf said. I looked at him. “Ben," he introduced himself.

 

“Yeah, I need to make sure mine are safe and I’m mostly healed up," I said solidly. I did. George and Roe needed me back at the bar, maning information outposts or working on other things.

 

“What happened to staying around?" Bran asked me.

 

“Well, I could stay, have the nightmares, and possibly shake your house down or stay awake and eventually lose control.”

 

The thing about hypnophobia(fear of sleep), is that can be caused by perfectly rational reasons: like the possibility of not controlling your magic and creating a hole, extending for one mile. And yeah, I might have done that once in a forest, far from people, but still.

 

“And you’re going to do what?" Samuel asked. He looked concerned. Oh.

 

“I’m not going to kill myself, Doc, just spend a couple nights getting my head on straight where I can’t hurt anybody.”

 

“Nothing dangerous?" Samuel pressed.

 

“No," I replied. I wasn’t lying, for the record.

 

Bran just didn’t look at me, making me feel like shit, which was probably his intention. He lies to protect people, and is also sort of an asshole. But, we’d made a promise in that mining town to be honest with each other. On the other hand, Bran is a wonderful metaphorical chess player, and you don’t need to lie to win at chess.

 

“One week, at most," I told him. “Then I’ll be back or at least start living closer to you.” Bran didn’t nod, but I didn’t need his consent, and he really hated that.

 

I didn’t have anything to pack that I couldn’t magic or buy myself with hacking. Hauptman didn’t offer me a car, but I didn’t need one. I ditched the clothes, and shifted in a spare room with the door only a jar open.

 

My shifts are faster than a regular Wolf. I’m a small, but swift, and scarred reddish-brown colored Wolf, . Wolves are all the things you can’t hide, your base instincts. I padded out onto Hauptman’s deck, and brushed up against Bran. You can’t save somebody that didn’t need saving, especially when you couldn’t keep your own head up.

  
I trotted away, slowly. Bran is a possessive bastard, so running might not be the best answer. So yeah, I walked away from my sort of mate, because that shiz is freaky, but I would be back in a week. If Roe doesn’t murder me that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is an actual term for wanting to have sex with your savior, but the internet sucks at helping me track it down. Urban Dictionary says its “Superhero Syndrome”, but that’s not correct(That’s when you need to save everybody- #Ash Cassidy). Seriously, I checked everywhere. There is no low lower for research than having to google “I want to have sex with my doctor” or all the variation there of for when you run out of clinical terms. Actually there is, it is sad and depressing(I did learn so many creepy things about Benedict Cumberbatch though). Don’t ever question my amount of research, okay?(well do if I spell things wrong- so many times, have I spelled things wrong). I honestly feel bad for people that hack my computer. Like I would send them a gift basket . . .in prison.
> 
> Hacker: Credit card numbers, contacts, fiance records? No. Weird google searches, fanfiction, and so much fandom related stuff. Oh, and school assignments. Oh, and the user sucks at filler chapters.
> 
> Sidenote: if you do know the correct term, please for the love of something, tell me?! Because I am seriously freaked out that I couldn't find it.


	12. Split POVs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter where I need to give y’all some perspective. So, this is written in third person. Mostly because my reviews are correct, Ash sucks at not being biased(it’s why I like her), but sometimes you need a little Spock. I refuse to write Bran in first person, because he’s still a mystery and I know my limits.
> 
> A note on spelling: I spell Grey Lords with an ‘e’, because they originated from Europe(most likely), not because I hate dyslexic Americans.

Last Time: _I trotted away, slowly. Bran is a possessive bastard, so running might not be the best answer. So yeah, I walked away from my sort of mate, because that shiz is freaky, but I would be back in a week. If Roe doesn’t murder me that is._

 

* * *

 

**On the Drive to Aspen Creek: Usual Suspects at Hauptman House, 3rd Person Omniscient**

“So, Nazi group that wants you dead," Charles said calmly, watching as his dad did not clench his hands on the table top.

 

“Yes," the Marrok’s tone was in full. Everybody kept their posture submissive.

 

“Along with your mate?” The question was not about the possibility of the Schatten wanting Cassidy dead. It was about the possibility of having a mate that was 1/32 of his father’s age.

 

“Make your point, Charles," Bran answered back softly. His Wolf was barely in control. The Beast raged, wanting to get to his mate, claim her.

 

“Why her?”

 

“Because she can handle the Beast.” Bran grimaced. “He likes her. The same way your wolf likes Anna. They’re both Omega. They don’t need to play dominance games.”

 

Anna blinked at that.

 

“But she thinks you have emotional transference?" Anna asked lightly, not wanting to be left out. Omegas were extremely rare after all.

 

“Yes. She also knows exactly who I must be, and does not want to become a political prize.” Bran said calmly, leaving slight grooves on the table with his fingernails. “It is also convenient, safer, and wise.” Bran did not say that Ash is most dangerous when she runs on instinct.

 

“Thoughts, Samuel?" Adam asked. “You’ve been around her the most next to Bran.”

 

“Doctor-patient confidentiality. Personally, I like her.” Samuel shrugged. “I like that she’s terrified of me, but still jokes. I think Ash knows exactly what she’s doing, and there’s things she’s not saying, because she has a brain.”

 

“Arielle?" Adam asked.

 

“Hmmm. Can’t tell you, Adam, she’s-she’s died for me. I can’t.” Darryl leaned into Arielle for comfort. Adam knew when to press, and this wasn’t it. Adam also wasn't stupid nor brave enough to try to question Bran, not when he was trying to put the Beast back into the cage.

 

“Her magic is volatile," Zee chimed in. “It kept trying to electrocute me when I put her under.”

 

“Like Grey Lord level?" Mercy asked.

 

“Very nearly. My level on a bad day.” And that's saying a lot right there. Zee is one of the most powerful Fae in the country, outside of the Grey Lords.

 

“Anything else?" Adam asked.

 

“She doesn’t like bullies," Jesse said softly. She’d been more quiet after the kidnapping. Jesse had been leaning more on Mercy and her dad, skipping her usual brand of sarcasm. The first kidnapping isn’t the hardest, the second and third are, because people think the worst it over, it can’t happen again.

 

“For a good reason," Bran said. “She made sure that Arielle and I were kept out of the worst of the torture.” Several wolves breathed carefully on that; their Alpha had been tortured under their nose.

 

“She’s lucky to be sane," Ben whispered. He met anybody’s eyes that dared to meet his with a blunt stare of ‘oh really, you want to go there?’.

 

Nobody said a word after that. Wolves that stay alive long enough, see and do horrible things, but none of them is stupid enough to harm children under Marrok law. There wasn’t much else to say: Ash Cassidy hadn’t given them much useful information.

 

 

* * *

  **Ash’s POV, somewhere in America**

 

I loped into the grounds that housed over a hundred people. I trotted calmly passed those that stared at me. I’d been MIA for over a month, worried Roe and George, and generally confused the population. Same old, same old.

 

“Ash ‘Kirk’ Cassidy, GET YOUR ASS INSIDE BEFORE I SICK ROE ON YOU," screeched George, a tall black man with an afro. I gave him a Wolf grin, and followed him into the house.

 

I shifted quickly, conjuring clothes so it appeared like I was Wolf one second, and a fully clothed human in the next second. Perk of the Fae side. I stared longingly at the open door, before George slammed it shut in my face. I followed him into the kitchen. Roe was pounding out her anger by making peanut butter blossoms. I winced. George is full on Wolf, but Roe is pure Fae. Sparks were literally flying around the room.

 

“Why would you consort with Bran fudging Cornick?" Roe whispered dangerously. She has a Thing about swearing. We had a swear jar for a while, until George and I had racked up over 300 dollars in a month.

 

“Because we need allies," I said firmly. George stood a foot behind me. He knew better than to mess with Roe when she was pissed; she was his mate after all.

 

“And you didn’t call us, because?" Roe asking, calmly setting the sink on fire. Her blond hair whipped around her face, and her green eyes were pain filled. George grimaced. George was lightening, fast and deadly. Roe was like a slowly dying sun: cold, calculating, long term.

 

“Because it was my problem.”

 

“No, it’s not," Roe said.

 

“Yeah, well, you need to protect the Pack," I muttered, ducking my head. George is extremely careful with wielding Pack power over my head, because of my less than nurturing experience. Roe has never had that problem; she knows I wouldn’t let them if I didn’t trust them. Iron Dragon that kept George on the straight and narrow. It only worked, because I respected the hell out of them. I wasn’t exactly people friendly after the Schatten.

 

“I really want to protect you.” Roe’s anger was dying down. She knew I was right which made it suck. “And I can’t, do you understand, Ash?”

 

“Yeah. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t let others get hurt, you know?" I asked softly.

 

“Yeah," George broke in. He wrapped his arms around Roe, and swaying both of them side to side. Roe sighed, and dropped the magic. Her eyes were sad still though. My Pack would always hate that I had the freedom to be stupid, but they would never try to chain me down, just patch me up and rant. “So, what happened, Ash," George finally asked.

 

I sat down at the kitchen table. I told them everything. My choice to give myself up the Schatten, to protect the Marrok, to bind myself to him so he didn’t go insane. Everything. George and Roe kept silent through it all. I kept my eyes fixed on the wall in front of me.

 

“So you married the man that you are rationally terrified of?" George asked finally. There wasn’t any judgement in his tone.

 

“Yeah. I-I- it wasn’t- it was the only way to keep him sane enough to keep control over the Marrok. I couldn’t have hundreds of out of control Wolves, George.”

 

“And now?" Roe asked.

 

“I-He doesn’t love me. He just needs a way to keep his Wolf in control, and I can do that platonically until he gets a mate.”

 

“But the Marrok wants more, doesn’t he?" George asked.

 

“Yeah," I said softly. The thing is that the Bran’s Wolf is a conniving bastard that wouldn’t think twice about killing everybody to accomplish his goals. The current goal is to make me mine. Not good.

 

“Do you?" Roe asked seriously.

 

“I don’t know," I said softly, voice hoarse from talking. “I respect Bran for ruthlessly protecting his Pack, but I think we would end up killing each other.”

 

“Or you would end up keeping him honest," George said carefully.

 

“It doesn’t matter right now. Bran and me don’t have our heads on straight. I need a week to think this all through.”

 

“Hmm, how about I take a look at that leg," George said.

 

I rolled up my right pant leg, not bothering to look at the fresh scars on it. The Schatten liked to go for the legs, no damage to the central core and it dissuaded people from running. Samuel had patched it when Zee had put me under. Before that, it had been a bloody mess. After, Samuel had only needed to be refused once before he gave ask asking to see the wound again. Now, it was just another mess of faint scars.

 

“Weeeell, looks like it’s all good now.” George gently poked at the skin while I grimaced. “Shoulder the same?” I nodded. “Looks like Cornick did a passable job. So what’s your plan?” I blinked at him. “Ash?”

 

“I think I should take some of them on a raid.”

 

“That is an insanely stupid idea," Roe said firmly. George and I rolled our eyes.

 

“He’s gonna get involved, Roe. It’s best if it’s on our terms," George said resolutely.

 

“Fine," she muttered darkly.

 

“Right, so I figure, one week for us to set it up ahead of time," I said with a smirk. My Pack ran as a weird Spec Ops team, SAS level of training.

 

“Let’s get started," George clapped his hands together, an ungodly smile lighting up his eyes. I grinned back. Roe just shook her head at our antics. My Pack is sort of awesome.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how all of you are like Ash/Bran all the way? And most of everybody(two people, maybe three included in those that made it thus far) are like ‘it’s never going to work’? Yeah, I’m right there too.*Groans in frustration at Bran and Ash*. 
> 
> Okay, so I was trying to find a middle name for Ash, and used a baby middle name generator. 2nd result: Branson Troy Cassidy. I died. The fates have spoken, if they have a son, it will be Troy, because Internet, even if I don’t like it very much. You just don’t argue with the creepy Internet Genie, seriously, he’s a pervert(*totally argues with the Internet*).
> 
> There is a bunch of shit that Ash isn't gonna say about the stuff from four years ago. I swear somebody will explain it all to Bran later. #George and shovel talks
> 
> Long chapter= long chapter notes


	13. the set up to the raid

Last Time: _“Let’s get started,” George clapped his hands together, an ungodly smile lighting up his eyes. I grinned back. Roe just shook her head at our antics. My Pack is sort of awesome._

 

* * *

*One Week Later*

 

I drove down the winding paths of Aspen Creek. Bran would go back here after Hauptman’s. I calmly blasted “Take me to Wonderland” over the stereo, because I have an overdeveloped sense of irony, thank you very much. The song was just ending when Bran darted in front of my newly acquired Bug(I couldn’t exactly go back and get the old one).

 

I slide to a stop, and opened the shotgun door. He hopped in and shut the door, flashing me a smile. I rolled my eyes. He was wearing pants at least, and I mean that in the American way, not the British way.

 

“So, have a good week off?" Bran asked me. Right, let the games begin.

 

* * *

 

Aspen Creek is small, think really small, like one room school house. It was also the sanctuary for Wolves that had problems or were developing them. I made a mental note to stay away from the hotel or Bran’s house, which is rumored to have cells. Bran directed me to a pole barn that I guessed they used for Pack meetings.

 

I glared at the Marrok. He started humming along to ‘Problem’ by Natalia Kills. Bastard. I got out of the car, slamming the door. Bran calmly walked behind me, with his hands in his pockets, herding me. I entered the Pole Barn. The entire Marrok Pack was there.

 

They all fell silent when I entered. I calmly sidestepped to the side, and kicked out at Bran. He dodged. One day, one day I’m gonna get him for when he pulls this shit.

 

“This is Ash Cassidy. She’ll be around," Bran introduced me in a gentlemanly fashion, putting enough power behind it that nobody dared to ask questions.

 

The meeting carried on from there. The Wolves talked about finances, and other town concerns. I basically stood there, twiddling my thumbs.

 

Soon, it was over, and Bran gently led me over to where Charles is. I gritted my teeth. I didn’t really want to meet my future killer, thank you. Bran may have delusions about my future, but his son sure as hell didn’t going from his solemn silence. I hadn’t really had much time to chat with Charlie before.

 

“Hi there, I’m Ash Cassidy again," I said, sticking out my hand with a cheerful smile, slamming my foot into Bran’s shin. Charles shook my hand, staring at Bran with a weird look on his face, mostly wondering why Bran didn’t snarl at me.

 

“Charles." He shook my hand.

 

“So you killing me soon or ?" I asked cheerfully. Bran kicked me back.

 

“I’m not killing you," Charles answered calmly, staring at his father.

 

“We were going to invite you to dinner," Anna Cornick cut in hastily. “Uh and not as the main course," she added.

 

“Oh," I said. “Sure," I said, dropping some of the cheerfulness. I will never turn down free food, okay?

 

* * *

 

So that would be how I ended up at Charles’s Cornick’s house, watching his mate mess around in the kitchen.

 

“Do you want any help?" I asked Anna, she’d insisted that I called ‘Anna’.

 

“Nah, I got . . .it," she said, jumping up to grab an ingredient. I gently started to help her. The men were doing something in the other room

 

“Oi, menfolk, you want food, you wanna help out?" I asked seriously.

 

Bran came to stand next to me, helping to chop up the veggies. Charles worked at mashing the potatoes, while Anna cooked the meat. Soon we were all sitting down to dinner. We all sat down, and dug in.

 

“So why come to Aspen Creek?" Charles asked. Well give the man a cookie.

 

“My Pack doesn’t like y’all. Everytime I talk to one of yours and don’t end up dead, is a point in your favor. I thought some of you might want to do some good by breaking people out of the Schatten.”

 

“They’re not all dead?" Anna asked.

 

“They’re hiding," Bran said easily; it was info he already knew.

 

“And your Pack is okay with you going after them?" Charles asked.

 

“Yep. Long term plan is that you help me get some guys out, feel all the warm gushy feelings, and then I ship them off to my Pack, since they’re more equipped to handle them.”

 

“I wanted to know if you wanted to become the Lones liaison with all your contacts?" Bran asked.

 

The rest of us blinked at that. “So I’d just have to alert you to major problems, right?" I asked.

 

“Yes, keep everybody in the loop," he answered.

 

“I’ll have to think about it.”

 

“Why should we help you?" Charles asked, getting the conversation back on topic.

 

“Because it’s the morally right thing to do, and I’m the reason why your da’s Wolf has calmed down, but that’s not really my problem, and I’d be happy to walk if you don’t want to help.” I wiped my mouth off. “And here I was trying to be all peaceful in the plotting of murder.” They didn’t smile at the irony. “My Pack is made up of terrified Wolves, scared of the big boogey man, the Marrok, which well, they should be, but this whole living in the same country isn’t gonna work if they can’t believe that they’re safe from the Marrok.”

 

“This Pack of yours," Charles said slowly. “Have they broken any of the Marrok Rules?”

 

“Well, I ain’t the only Lone Wolf that choose to live near the Pack, but other than that, no.” I shrugged at them. “It’s loosely structured, sure, but most folks get taught the basics if they’re willing.”

 

“And you’re not the main leader, right?" Anna broke in.

 

“Me? Nah. I like the frontlines too much to be consigned to a desk job. I can’t tell you who this person is for obvious reasons like it would be easier in the short run to kill the person and take their power. My Pack hasn’t had any good experience with outsiders with the power y’all have.”

 

“And yet, here you are, being the brave little one, aren’t you?" Bran asked condescendingly.

 

“Yeah well, I’m a Gryffindor all the way, man," I nudged him with my toe. “So how’ve you been, oh ancient one?” Bran got condescending when he was confused.

 

“Still being ancient. When do you want to leave?" he asked me.

 

“Day after tomorrow,” I said. “Tomorrow would be better.”

 

“How many people do you need?" Bran asked.

 

“Three should do it; it’s a small job, the group’s hiding out in a ranch near Billings. Intel I have says there’s only ten guys or so, and they won’t be expecting the Marrok.”

 

“Are they Wolves or?" Charles asked.

 

“Three Fae, about seven Wolves, with six experimentals," I responded swiftly. George and Roe had been preparing the information for me for about a week. “I’d normally do this on my own, but I figured if y’all were looking to be friendly . . .?”

 

“And you do all this freelance?" Anna asked.

 

“Yep. I have a thing against the Schatten. I don’t like bullies, think of me as the more gritty version of Bucky Barnes or the Winter Soldier.” They all stared at me blankly. “Um, so I figure we’d leave around tenish tomorrow?" I asked. They nodded. “Cool, then um where am I sleeping and it better be alone, Bran-y.” He kicked me. “Honey? Sugar? Baby-cake? Ooo, Strawberry?” He kicked harder. “I’m starting to think you have a BDSM fix, between the kicking and the hotel, and six cells in your house.”

 

“How do you know about my house?" Bran asked in all seriousness.

 

“Same way I know that Benedict Cumberbatch has put in serious thought about what sex with Sherlock Holmes would be like, I do my research, Princess.” Bran glared at me. What? I like doing all my research and then walking through the front door, because fuck crawling through vent shafts, that’s why.  
  


“That’s creepy," Anna muttered. I winked at her. “We have a spare bedroom that you can use?" she said hastily before Charles did something.

 

“And Bran?" I asked him.

 

“Da’s been sleeping in front of the fire," Charles answered, keeping his eyes on his father. I kicked Bran gently in askance. Anna showed me to the spare room. Bran headed off to shift, I think. I looked after him, worrying. “Could we talk to you for a moment?" Charles asked. I nodded. I put up a hasty silencing spell.

 

“Yes?" I asked.

 

“Why did you bind yourself to your worst fear?" Charles asked. I froze.

 

“Because the world needs him sane. I don’t like him or you, Chuck, but I do respect your very awesome abilities to make my life extremely difficult," I said with false cheer.

 

“He’s broken," Anna said softly. “He hasn’t been eating. He’s only been holding the pack together, nothing else. People are gonna start challenging him.” Her voice was sad.

 

“Broke ain’t shattered, and that is an important distinction. He’s needs time and a little early karmic justice," I said calmly. Internally, I worried. Wolves not eating is bad, like very bad, soon-on-their-way-to-killing bad.

 

“But you don’t want to mate with him?" Charles asked silkily.

 

“My Wolf does.” I grimaced. “If I do that, I could fuck all of us over, so that’s leave that as Plan Z, alright? Can you do anything to help?" I asked Anna.

 

“I’ve tried, but he’s so . . .off?” Anna frowned at me. “He’s been sleeping at the foot of our bed for the past week. Samuel went to get some things in Tri Cities, and he went crazy over that. Samuel will be back by tomorrow.”

 

“I think part of it is PTSD," I said. “I- stuff went down, you know? And Bran’s not the most open person, so I think he wants to know that everybody’s safe, and it’s driving him up the wall that he can’t know where everybody is for every second of the day. I think he’ll calm down.”

 

“He’s calm around you," Charles added.

 

“Yeah. Well. I think I’m the best choice his Wolf has right now. He knows better than to fuck with me, after watching my show with the Schatten.” I flicked my hair back impatiently.

 

“So what really happened then?" Anna asked me.

 

“Didn’t you hear? There were nazis, and a couple of shirtless men, I think Santa Claus was there, and then the Wizard came and set us all free. Now, I’m going to sleep like a normal person.”

  
I ended the ward on the room. Anna and Charles left, figuring out that they wouldn’t get anymore from me. I crawled into the bed, and stretched, and started making the attempt to sleep. Bran slammed oh so subtly against the door. I groaned, but got up, and let him in. He curled up at the foot of the bed, resting his face against my good leg, and pressing up against my bad one, providing a nice amount of heat. I fell asleep quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could’ve ended it at the third paragraph. I didn’t. You’re welcome.
> 
> According to Briggs’s blueprints(she has a website that practically begs to be used for fanfiction- and yeah, I have an account(and possibly ask questions on it)) say that Bran does have cells in the basement of his house. Seriously, all the BDSM jokes are right there. Also, apparently site administrators(Elle) and others agree that there should be rebellious female lone wolves. In other words, I’m the stalky bear of the Internet(Rule 666: if it’s on the Internet, I will find it). Apparently, Bran has a thing for Japanese Boy Bands. Seriously, go stalk that website. People also vote for him being a Brony. Angry Birds and Oreos also came up for hobbies.
> 
> It is illegal to change anybody of witchblood. Seriously, the amount of research I do for fanfiction is epic. One day, I will publish a book called ‘everything I learned in the name of research’. The Sherlock reference is true, I found it looking for something else from another fic.
> 
> I honestly like Charles, Ash is just terrified of him, because Bran could order him to kill her.The parts where Ash argues with herself is more about her arguing with me, because yeah.The hardest part about trying to write a happy ending for Bran is that he doesn’t think he deserves one. Seriously, I could write a damn textbook on all his issues. Bran hates lies, but he will do it and manipulate people without a thought to keep everybody safe. Patty Briggs is awesome, and you will not convince me otherwise.The men folk didn’t help with dinner, because they were chatting about Bran’s slight issues, not trying to be assholes. I highly suggest you check out other works on A03 recently for Bran Cornick and Tumbler.
> 
> Readers:One day you’ll give us straight answers on the Ash/Bran thing.  
> Author: Take it up with the voices. I just write what they say. They are extremely private and shy about talking to strangers. Shhhh.


	14. The Raid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: I suck at writing action. And sex scenes, but mostly the fighting. I don't really like how this turned out, but it's the best I can do, so please be kind in your critique.

Last Time: _I ended the ward on the room. Anna and Charles left, figuring out that they wouldn’t get anymore from me. I crawled into the bed, and stretched, and started making the attempt to sleep. Bran slammed oh so subtly against the door. I groaned, but got up, and let him in. He curled up at the foot of the bed, resting his face against my good leg, and pressing up against my bad one, providing a nice amount of heat. I fell asleep quickly._

 

* * *

 

I woke, flipping off the bed, kicking Bran in the process, in his human face. I groaned at him. “Seriously?" I yelped staring at him. At least, he was pants(the British version). Let’s just say that Bran is not a nairwolve.

 

“I figured it would be easier to talk like this, and it’s almost seven am," he answered.

 

“One day, one fucking day asshole, you’re gonna learn that there should be coffee before you wake me up before noon.”

 

“It’s in the kitchen.” Bran grinned at me. “That way you have to move to get to it.”

 

“You know what else is in the kitchen? Knives. Large knives,” I grumbled, stumbling toward the kitchen for the coffee machine.

 

Charles watched me, amused, from his kitchen chair. I drank it straight from the pot, muttering nasty things about Wolves. I like mornings, damnit. I especially like mornings that involve a minimum of talking. Charles was less amused when I just took the whole pot with me when I went to grab a shower. Serves him right.

 

Twenty minutes later, I managed to get my brain up and running. I’d brought a bag full of supplies that included some clothes so Bran couldn’t try to scent mark me as his. Yeah, I’m your local boy scout, pleased to meet you.

 

“So, you can make pancakes?" I asked Bran as he flipped a couple of moose ones. I kind of wanted to hate him for it. Seriously, boxers and making folk breakfast should be a crime if you’re not on the market. “Do your abilities extend to wearing pants?” He stared at me, probably wanting to be closer so he could kick me. I grinned at him, and continued sipping at the pot of coffee.

 

Samuel chose that moment to walk through the front door. “What’s up doc?" I greeted cheerfully.

 

“Heard you could use all hands on deck?”. Samuel grabbed a plate of pancakes. I followed suite. “Are you gonna share the coffee?”

 

“I don’t know. I want all its magic for myself, Sammy.” He blinked at me. “What? I called Charles ‘Chuck’.”

 

“I think your magic ability is to not get murdered by Charles," was Samuel’s answer. “Don’t waste your gift.” I grinned at him.

 

I wanted to talk with Charles alone, to ask him to make it clean when he killed me, but there wasn’t exactly time, and I didn’t want to deal with people’s skirmish nature. Spare me yours.

 

We left soon after that. Bran, Charles, and me ran ahead of Samuel. Samuel was supposed to stay back. I didn’t know the doc well, but he’s not suited to war. Anna wasn’t happy over Charles going without her, but Charles didn’t want her involved in something this dangerous. I’d gotten everybody to put some spare clothes in my bag, and anything else they wanted to bring. I’d brought several interesting uh surprises. The Wolves were suspicious, but I swore up and down that the bag would work, so they stuffed it full. I vanished it when I shifted for the track to the compound.

 

We arrived in a patch of woods, on a hill. It looked like a bad action movie in the way that it overlooked a military compound. The place was all made of grey concert, happiness bounced off it. I shifted to human, pulling clothes out of thin air, along with the previous mentioned bag in under a minute.

 

“Trick that I picked up," I said easily as they didn’t shift back. “Don’t shift. I need the human skin for the fingers and to work a little fire magic. The plan is for me to distract, y’all to tear some skin, and to get those folk out of there. When we get the people out, remember that they’re gonna be scared, and dangerous. In other words, do not get into dominance games with them, because I will not have the strength nor the urge, and time, to patch y’all up. Any questions?”

 

Can you sense who's in there?, Bran asked in my head. I controlled my initial urge to blast him, well, I had asked if there were any questions. “Seven Wolves, three witches, one Controller. I can take on the witches, Controller, and at least one Wolf, and if I’m right-” I broke off, hearing a twig snap to my right. Hauptman had arrived. He’d brought what I thought was Warren along with him. I grinned wolfishly. He’d been smart enough to leave his Second behind to keep the others in order. Warren was a gay Wolf, in short, he knew how to fight. It made the odds laughable. Wolves win fights through dominance. The Marrok was one the most powerful Wolves in the World. You do the math.

 

“Right, remember the goal is to get the innocents out of there, not to get caught up in fights. No heroics equal no funerals, clear?" I asked, careful to not push at them. Bran bumped my hip, growling softly.  “Well full steam a head. Wait five minutes, should be enough time for me to hit them good. Then follow, clean and swift is the goal.” They all grinned at me.

 

I banished the bag and started loping down the hill, making not one sound. George had trained all of us willing to fight how to operate in ways that would make SAS men proud or scared. George would know, being Ex-SAS himself.

 

I forced the magical barriers of the compound to fall away like water. I set off a series of smaller explosions in the upper levels of the compound. People also put prisoners in the basement, thinking the lack of sunlight will freak them out. I pelted through the front door, forcing the doors open with a wild wave, and dodging the gunfire that chased after my heels.

 

Enemy Wolves rushed at me, I set them on fire, not having the luxury of wincing at their pain. The three witches closed in in a loose circle around me. I grinned at them. Oh babies, I’ve met more scary monsters than you, I wanted to say, but didn’t have the time.

 

I called up Air Magic, weaving it around them, looping it around them like a bracelet. The witches started their casting at me, but I deflected it easy. Shit. I dropped, rolling to the right. Bran lept over me and the witches, starting in on the Wolves. I didn’t spare him a glance. I’d have time later to yell that five minutes meant five minutes.

 

If you don’t trust your fellows, you die.

 

I slammed one of the witches to the ground, binding her swiftly with runed vines. The other two flew at me, literally. I managed to set one on fire with cursed magic, grimacing at the Blackness. My hands flew, weaving Magic. I almost started humming along with its song. She tried to send a flock of crows at me, but I redirected them to another enemy Wolf. I bound her to the ground, and broke her neck with Air Magic. I did the same to the Other.

 

I paused to grab a breath of air. Magic takes a toll. I forced myself forward. The Wolves were managing alright. Charles had killed one, and was working for his second. Adam and Warren were battling the other two. Bran stood over two dead, but caught up to me, blood still on his muzzle. I walked into the sublevel of the compound. Twenty people were in tiny dog cages. The Controller stood before them, trying to defend himself.

 

I walked in front of the Wolves, meeting the enemy’s eyes squarely. “Drop the magic in the name of the Whisper Man," I told him firmly. He only laughed. I laughed back and killed him, setting his ass on fire, contained fire by the way. I broke all the locks with more magic, setting the captured free. Kudos if you get why George is called ‘The Whisper Man’. I broke all the locks on the doors of the cages. The people crawled slowly out of them, shaking all over, shaking off the magic that had controlled them for who knows how long. Poor bastards.

 

My right leg had started to bleed. The most recently healed wounds had broke open, all signs of what had been flawless skin gone. This is the price of magic, exceed your limits, and you court death. In my case, my right leg gets slashed apart. I grimaced, but continued to stand up right. Bran supported me, taking some of the weight.

 

“I’m gonna get y’all to a safe place," I announced calmly, letting my Wolf shine through the words.

 

“Who's the Whisper Man?" a dominant Wolf asked me.

 

“Someone who can keep your Pack safe," I said, turning around and pulling my hair up, so he could see my bar code. This Alpha would have a similar one. “Now, let’s move it.” The well-abled scooped up the wounded. I wove protection all around them, locking it down sharply. I led the way back up to the surface. Bran led the way.

 

The place was covered in random blood spots and blood. All of the others were safe, and unharmed. I led them all out of the compound, and about twenty feet away from it. I called Samuel to come get us. I’d given him the location of the bus George had hidden, early on. Samuel came in the twenty minutes it took for everybody to shift to human, all except Bran. I’d wandered up and down the twenty or so people, healing the immediates, triaging the rest for the moment. George had staked the bus with a large medical kit, much bigger than what my messenger bag had. There’s only so much you can fit in things without having to use up a large amount of magic.

 

The rescues remained mostly calm. The Marrok Wolves didn’t try to play games, just tended to try to calm them down. Bran remained tight at my side, protecting me against things that didn’t exist. I’ve gotten good at handling folk like these, people at the end of their rope and pushed into a corner to die. Give me some torture victims any day over Bran’s manipulation.

 

When Samuel arrived, we got everybody loaded up. Samuel and I started patching people up, working as fast as we could. The Alpha of this group, stayed close to us we worked, soothing his pack and making sure that we weren’t fucking things up. Apparently the Alpha’s name is Matt. My right leg had started to bleed badly by this point.  Bran whined, pulling gently at my pant leg. I nudged him off and continued healing those that were in immediate danger. Finally, everybody was as good as they would get for the drive to George’s or at least to the drop off point where George’s people would take over. The others insisted on going along for the ride.

 

“You won’t be able to see or hear them," I tried.

 

“I’m not leaving you alone this bus," Samuel said firmly. “Besides, Da told me that I’ll need to have a look at your leg.”

 

“Fine," I muttered. I quickly texted George the change in plans. I’d still be leaving with George and Roe’s people. So that would be the story of how five of the Marrok’s Wolves drove a bus full of torture victims to a rendezvous in the middle of no-where-ville.

 

To the Marrok Wolves, George’s people wore ninja outfits. They gently checked the escapees out. I finally turned to leave, but Bran snagged my pants, and whined at me.

 

Please. Don’t leave me. I need you here to kill me if I start killing.

 

I froze, meeting the Beast’s eyes squarely, because that wasn’t Bran talking to me. His heart didn’t skip a beat. The Beast looked back at me solemnly. I can’t really tell you what happened in that cage, but let’s just say that the Beast and I had come to an understanding: I’m his last resort, his safeguard, the bullet in the chamber if need be. Bran couldn’t kill himself, because that would end badly for everybody in his Pack, but he couldn’t trust himself to know the limits.

 

“Fine," I said softly. “But you and me are talking with your children about this.” The Beast nodded. “And I’m not agreeing to let Samuel take a look at my leg until you let Bran back in the driver’s seat, because I want his input.” I didn’t say ‘ and you know it freaks me out when you talk in my head,’ because Bran already knew that.

 

The Beast nodded, and began the shift. I turned to George’s people, and waved as they pulled away. They’d left their cars so we could drive back to Aspen Creek.

 

“So leg?" Samuel asked me.

 

“Aspen Creek first. Hauptman, feel free to take one of the cars back to Tri-Cities. My Pack has more than we need right now, and Mercy will appreciate it if you give her an apology gift for being in danger.” Hauptman did just that. Samuel, Charles, Bran, and I climbed into the second car, after Bran had completed his shift.

 

“Talk,” Charles ordered.

  
*To Be continued*    


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every single day, I thank somebody for thelightwithin, because they honestly keep the ship afloat, if you ship the Ash/Bran, you should too. Seriously. Go give the person a cookie, because every single time I’m like ‘it won’t work, I’ll never finish this, Bran will become a sad old man(not that he isn’t already)’, they’re just like ‘here’s ten reasons why it works’. So yeah, thank you. Because Bran is still whining in the corner ‘fuck you all, I just want to keep everybody safe, not be happy myself. Can I go back to manipulation, now?” And this all happens because half of my brain is a sneaky son of a bitch and refuses to say what happens next. That’s not a joke, I’m completely serious. It’s all ‘let’s stay up until 1am and do all the research’. So yeah, I honestly don’t have a clue how it turns out, but I’m cheering for Ash/Bran.
> 
> Google docs accepts “nairwolve” as a word. I applaud the Teen Wolf fans at Google for this. Seriously. They like Criminal Minds and Teen Wolf.
> 
> Ash has a love hate relationship with Samuel and Charles, in case you haven’t gotten that. I spent all of this chapter pleading with her to be more tactful. Ash is my real temper combined with Bucky Barnes. The “Spare me yours” was more directed at me, than y’all. Seriously, I kinda want to slam Bran and Ash over the heads. The thing with Charles happened, because I started reading ‘Fair Game’, and now I really want to hug him and bake him cookies.
> 
> Bran can actually make pancakes in different shapes. Read ‘Fair Game’, because he makes deer shaped ones. I say he made pancakes before that, just not the shapes BTW, because I’m awesome and the way to any girl’s heart is through coffee and food. #Ash Dating Advice


	15. Talks

 

* * *

 

Last Time: _Samuel, Charles, Bran, and I climbed into the second car, after Bran had completed his shift._

_“Talk,” Charles ordered._

 

 

* * *

 

I kept my eyes straight a head in the shotgun seat. Charles drove, because Bran was still shaky, and Samuel sat next to Bran in the backseat. I really really did not want to do this conversation, but I didn’t have the luxury of not having it.

 

“I’m Omega, right? Bran knows that I’m the most able to kill him right now, because his dominance doesn’t affect me. I’m Plan B, if his Wolf takes over. Only problem is that Bran-the-human is the problem in this equation, because he fears his Wolf.” I shrugged at them. “And I owe his Wolf a debt, because I got his mate killed by not taking down the Schatten or contacting him. Although, if I had, I’d be a lot deader, and my Pack would’ve been wiped out in the attempt to avenge me.”

 

“I told you," Bran started.

 

“Yes, yes, you’re Wolf is pure evil, the big monster under the bed. Only, he isn’t. The Beast just wants death, and that ain’t wrong, after being tied up for so long by you.”

 

“And if I set it free, it will kill everybody. It will kill you, Ash," Bran said sharply.

 

“Y’know, most people learn to accept that they have darker instincts, and make friends with them. Only, you see this as a weapon, a tool to keep everybody in line with your OCD.”

 

“And what would you have me do? Send it valentine cards?" Bran snarked back at me. Charles and Samuel sort of had this weird look on both of their faces, but kept their mouths shut.

 

“Yes!" I screeched at him. “Send him flowers for all I care.”

 

“You don’t know it," Bran growled at me.

 

I raised my eyebrows. “Oh really? I don’t know the Wolf I spent a month, trapped in a cage with? The same one that tried to keep me safe, and clean my wounds, knowing that I was terrified of him? Uh, that’s funny ‘cause I had this strange feeling that I did, after we got past his pointless manipulation.” Like I said, I’m more afraid of Bran than his Wolf, and there hadn’t been much time to talk, not that I had really tried to. I knew what Bran thought about himself.

 

Bran sighed at me. I grinned. He only did that when he was out of ideas, and wanted to put a person off so he could think.

 

“How are you still alive if you spent a month with Da’s Wolf?" Samuel asked.

 

“I  handle out of control Wolves all the time, Sammy. Your Da’s Wolf isn’t out of control around me, but Bran has decided to be a self-sacrificing moron. I can fix a lot of things, but stupid ain’t on that list.”

 

“The real problem is that you’re terrified of me," Bran said.

 

“Yes, that’s a part of it. People haven’t been a real good experience for me, and you’re one manipulative son of a bitch. I owe your Wolf the debt of teaching you how to live with yourself, but I do not and will never owe you myself, Marrok. However, you will do anything you can to keep me bound to you, because I’m the ultimate answer for yourself and your Pack. And sugar tits, I like my freedom.”

 

“But you’re fine with his Wolf?" Charles clarified. He and his brother smelled shocked, probably because I was talking to the Marrok so disrespectfully.

 

“Oh yeah, he’s a snarky asshole once you get to know him. Beast has traded one set of chains for another, and he’s not amused by it," I said with false cheerfulness.

 

“And yet, you want me to set him loose in the far flung hope that I won’t start eating people?” Bran twitched his eyebrows at me; I could see them through one of the mirrors.

 

“Well, I’m not saying to let him in the driver seat. I’m saying to not be such an asshole to him, because one day he will break free and kill your Pack to teach you a lesson.”

 

“But he won’t now?" Samuel asked me hastily.

 

“No, because he knows that Bran is a world of stupid. The Beast and I have an agreement that he keeps his Wolves from fucking with mine, and I try to help him out. The agreement does include that my people don’t get hurt by his, but I’m fair game more or less.”

 

“You think I’m going to kill you one day," Charles said. I nodded at him.

 

“Well, I have broken a couple of the Marrok’s laws, and I didn’t contact y’all when I escaped the Schatten. I sure as hell didn’t join a Pack, like female Wolves are supposed to. Neither did I go to any of you with problems, until very recently, and that was more about your problems than mine.” I tried to stay calm. I don’t want to die. “And I won’t ask Beast to do it, because he won’t.”

 

“But he’s fine with you killing yourself?" Samuel asked sharply.

 

“No, but he knows now that Bran has to uphold the Law. My Pack will know, before the end, and they won’t start a war over me. My Pack will have to protect itself. I just ask that y’all forgive their crimes when you absolve mine.” I met Charles’s eyes squarely. “I know my duty, Wolf, same as you know yours. And I’d rather give you my permission then have you feel shitty after the fact.”

 

“And if I change the Law?" Bran asked suddenly.

 

“Then you appear to be an inconsistent dick. Wolves will challenge you. They’ll die, and everybody will lose their shit.”

 

“Times change," Bran said firmly.

 

“Not for Wolves. Female Independence is a joke, gays are attacked, and the only reason why racism doesn’t exist is because of Asil the Moor and Chucky here. My Pack do not need another dictator, Marrok.”

 

“Okay, what’s up with the kicking thing?" Samuel asked suddenly.

 

“What? Oh, Bran sort of forgot the whole speaking thing, so we started the Silent Language which consists of kicks and body language. Beast isn’t all that fond of trying to communicate with people, because of Bran.”

 

“And Da thinks he’s manipulating you, right?" Samuel broke in before Bran could start an argument.

 

“Yes," Bran said firmly.

 

“Well, Bran, most certainly, and Beast just wants to not be locked up," I answered, ignoring Bran.

 

“It’s insanity for the Wolf to be in the driver seat," Samuel once more cut in, before Bran managed to set me on fire through the power of stares.

 

“Yes, but Bran sticks him in a solid cage and has left him to rot for the most part of the last 900 years.”

 

“Because he’s killed whole villages.” Bran glared at me.

 

“Because your mother shut him up. Damn right he was angry. He killed more a very long time ago, and nobody had bothered to teach him morals. Basically, he threw a tantrum," I said with no small amount of irritation.

 

“People died," Samuel said simply. “I was there, and people died.”

 

“Yes, and in the greater scheme of things, they would be dead even if Bran hadn’t killed them," I said bluntly. “Keeping something trapped like that is not going to fix anything. Beast will just get more and more angry to the point where he breaks free. You’ve been yelling at a child for taking the extra cookie when you weren’t looking, when they don’t know any better, because you never bothered trying to teach them. One day that child is going to get sick of your treatment and burn your house down.”

 

“It killed millions of people, Ash," Bran nearly shouted at me.

 

“Yes, and how many people have you killed, Bran? Your hands ain’t shining clean. The last time he got out, with the witch that tried to take over the Moor, did he kill any innocents?”

 

“No, but only because Anna stopped it," Samuel said.

 

“Uh-huh. Only thing is, I know Beast. He could’ve killed Anna. He knew exactly what she was, but he was more interested in playing with her, and what she would do than a clean kill. Charles wouldn’t have stopped him, not with that anger, of being leashed up for 900 years, and then set free. You’ve kept kicking him up, kicking him repeatedly for 900 years, of course he’s violent, Bran. Of course, he hates you. But, Beast went back into the cage, willingly, in the far flung hope that you would be less of an asshole.” Bran snarled at me, silently. I raised my eyebrows. “And that right there says you got nothing. Now hush.”

 

“I change my mind. You’re suicidal," Samuel said clearly. I grinned cheerfully.

 

“I got dropped on my head, a lot. My Pack thinks the Schatten took away all my common sense," I said happily as we pulled into Aspen Creek.

 

Charles parked and led the way into the clinic. I scuffed my feet, moving slowly to the point where Bran nudged me with his foot, and then half carried me, to get me moving. There isn’t a Fae handy to knock me out this time around.

 

Samuel quickly took charge, getting me up on an exam table. “Can you take your pants off?" he asked.

 

“Yeah.” I shucked them off, ignoring the other two, and keeping my eyes on the doc. Samuel whistled at the state of my leg. It looked like somebody had taken an ax to it. I didn’t bother to look with him.

 

“Alright. Charles and Da can hold you down while I work. Anything specific I shouldn’t do?" Samuel asked.

 

“Don’t try to dom me. It won’t work, and I might accidently set you on fire or, at the very least, throw you into a wall.”

 

“Alright. Do you want to lay down or?” I shook my head, and continued to sit straight up.

 

“The pain thing or the sight is blood’s not gonna bother me, doc.” Bran hopped up on the table, so I could lean  on him, and still keep an upright position. Charles moved so he was close enough to grab me if I started freaking out.

 

Samuel nodded, and set up his equipment. I focused on controlling my breathing as he started in. Bran didn’t snatch at me. I grimaced tightly when Samuel flushed the wounds out with saline, fighting the urge to kill him. Bran let me press up against him more. Charles almost winced. Samuel backed off for a moment.

 

“Do you want me to put in stitches?" he asked.

 

“Nah, I’m good. Just tape it up, and hand me the devil sticks," I said cheerfully. Samuel nodded, and gently flushed the wounds out again, and wrapped them with vet wraps with padding. Samuel tossed a blanket over my bottom half.

 

“You hurt anything else?" Samuel asked. I grimaced at him. He raised an eyebrow.

 

“Ribs. Again. My hands should be okay, just a little sore.”

 

“Could ya lift up your shirt?" Samuel asked, making sure to keep all body language quiet.

 

I lifted up my shirt carefully. It’s hard to flash when you’re surrounded by really attractive men(that’s not a come on or objectification when it is solid fact) that you are terrified of, not that I’m ashamed of the scars, because I’m not. I’d developed the philosophy that you shouldn’t be ashamed of who you are, there are too many other things to worry about.

 

Charles left the room, stinking of anger. I looked at Bran. “Anna," Bran murmured. Oh. I’d remembered that Anna’s previous pack had sucked hardcore. That explained the dinner invitation.

 

Samuel gently probed the ribs. Let’s just say that it is a highly embarrassing experience for a male friend to repeatedly touch your boob, especially in front of his father. Just guh. You may get desensitized to that weird when being an experiment, but after you find your space again? Those areas are yours.

 

Lucky, Samuel was fast, and decided that I would heal on my own. Bran had kept a unperturbed hand on my arm, and stared straight ahead. I throw a shirt back on, and borrowed a pair of sweats. Samuel sized me for the aforementioned devil sticks(crutches). At least they make excellent weapons. Samuel started cleaning up. I could hear Charles breathing in the waiting room.

 

“Where do you plan on staying?" Bran asked me considerately. I stared at him blankly for a second. I’d had half a mind to say the hotel, but his eyes found mine for just a second, and I saw his exhaustion.

 

“If you even think or smell like you’re thinking of sex, I will hack into the government database, and say that the Marrok’s Alpha prefers to be called ‘sugar tits’ or ‘Strawberry’, clear?”

 

“Yes," Bran said, not hastily, but without any pause.

 

“Good, and your house had better have good water pressure, and no walking around nude.” Bran has a really really good poker face, but I could feel his happiness through the bond.

 

Samuel accompanied us to Bran’s house. Charles had chosen to walk home, something about him not liking machines. I think Samuel wanted to be close in case I set Bran off.

 

I stepped in Bran’s house, tapping my hand against my leg. Bran nudged me with a foot. Well, this was going to be interesting.

 

*To be continued*

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> I almost cried in this chapter, because Ash is so cynical and ducking cheerful about it. I maintain that she’s not actually suicidal, just up front about the probability of getting killed. Ash also doesn’t want Charles to like her, because she doesn’t want him to feel even more guilty over her possible death, and I think Samuel’s sort of called her on it in the last chapter.
> 
> It is an extremely bad idea to take a Wolf on a raid like that, if they’re close to the edge, but Ash needs to know where the Beast’s at. Bran wouldn’t do it, if he didn’t think Ash could handle him. I maintain that it is comforting to know that there is somebody that could kill you if you went off the rails.
> 
> If you haven’t noticed, the chapters have been getting slightly longer, you’re welcome. It happened because I didn’t or couldn’t break off in the middle of the content. Please do not count on this continuing. This was long, because I didn’t understand the depth of Bran’s stupidity(there’s a lot to estimate) when I started it(like 2K now of Bran just being all ‘I don’t want a happy ending’). The chapters getting longer mean the notes get longer, because I have to write out my thought process somewhere. It’s the trade off.
> 
> A note on the weird grammar of Ash: she switches back and forth for when’s she’s pissed or wants to make a point. Ash calls people names to piss them off, because she likes poking people to see how they react. I can say with a lot of certainty that a lot of people do this, and please be nice to them. She puts things like ’wolf’ as capitalized, because that’s how she defines things in her head.
> 
> Sidenote: I post around 2amish, East Coast, US time. Every Night is like “should I stay up, finish it, or go to ‘sleep’(aka read books?”.


	16. The Fae

Last Time: _Samuel accompanied us to Bran’s house. Charles had chosen to walk home, something about him not liking machines. I think Samuel wanted to be close in case I set Bran off._

_I stepped in Bran’s house, tapping my hand against my leg. Bran nudged me with a foot. Well, this was going to be interesting._

 

* * *

 

Bran was actually pretty good at keeping to himself, or at least, that’s what I thought.

 

I had gone to sleep in one of his guest bedrooms, using an old pair of sweats and a large hoodie for pjs. Samuel had taken the bed in the room across from me. Bran stayed up stairs, probably trying to not whig me out. I went to sleep alone.

 

I did not wake up alone. Both of my housemates had decided that my bed was better. I kicked Samuel in the face, trying to get up. Samuel just blinked at me, with puppy eyes and a hurt expression(note to self: having around nine hundred years, gives a guy a lot of practice at begging). I flopped back down, because I’m tired, the bed is warm, Wolves are the experts at cuddling(look it up), they are fully clothed, and at this point, who could ask for anymore? Bran rolled over, pressing his head into my boobs, still completely asleep. I almost woke him up, but I remembered that Bran hadn’t been sleeping well. Sam raised an eyebrow at me, asking if I wanted to throw them out, but I shook my head, and went back to sleep. I could yell in the morning.

 

* * *

 

The second time I woke, I woke to the delightful smell of coffee. I groaned, stumbled out of bed, and down a hall toward the scent.

 

“I told you, alarm clock," Bran murmured to Samuel. I glared at him, and made grabby hands until he gave me the coffee pot. I gulped it down.

 

I looked up at both of them, “Omeganess last night?" I asked.

 

“Something like that," Bran answered.

 

“Well, this is awkward.” I said cautiously.

 

“Not really," Samuel answered hastily. I raised my eyebrows at him. Samuel started to reply, but something else interrupted.

 

“Ash Cassidy, of the Whisper Man," a voice rang out in the room. I stood up, keeping my stance loose, not bringing up any magic, yet. It would be highly stupid to make a threat against an unknown Fae.

 

“Yo," I said cheerfully. “Mind showing yourself, Fae?" I asked.

 

Apparently Zee had bought me two weeks and like the dumbass I was, I completely didn’t leave the country or go to ground or prepare in anyway(more or less). I had set up more powerful magic around George’s place so the Fae couldn’t track the people there. But if they were looking for me . . .well, I stuck out since I’d been running around with the most powerful Wolf in the country. Inwardly, I cursed my ability to not keep promises, or keep my nose out of Bran’s business.

 

“The Grey Lords will hear you now," the disembodied voice said. I felt a tugging sensation around my body, and I got jerked off my feet. Bran grabbed hold of my arm, along with Samuel. I tried to throw them off, but they clutched tighter as we spun away from Aspen Creek.

 

In all reality, the Fae were about as safe as the Marrok’s pack, because they didn’t want to murder me for the death of his mate or the possibility of me controlling him. The Fae would probably reward me if I was controlling Bran, but I wasn’t, so no cookie from me, not that you should eat cookies in any place belonging to Fae. Well, you could, if you want to stay in a creepy hillside with possible human slaves, and questionable water pressure.

 

We slammed into a rocky surface. I sprung up, lightly as both of the Wolves shook their heads, still on the ground. Underhill. I grimaced, because the whole place tastes like an electric current. I haven’t had real good experiences with electricity. Teen Wolf go it right, that shit can hurt if you mix it with a couple chemicals.

 

I stood up straight, concealing my injuries best I could. The devil sticks hadn’t made the trip, how  . . .unfortunate. The Marrok picked himself up, Samuel at his side. I kept myself in front of them, facing the Grey Lords. The Grey Lords enclosed us in a semi-circle. I forced my magic deeper down. Being powerful to Grey Lords means that you either end up a slave, without powers, or dead.

 

Zee came into the room. He didn’t smell of guilt, but I wouldn’t expect him to. Zee unfortunately owed himself to the Grey Lords, because they kept the Fae from becoming extinct or hunted or any number of horrible things. But that hadn’t stopped the Schatten.

 

“Lord Fae.” I met their eyes cooly. “You could’ve called or texted or emailed really. Transportation is such a nasty way to travel.”

 

“The Schatten, the one you call ‘Herr Mutter’," became one of the Grey Lords. She looked like a small girl. I wasn’t fooled. “what can you tell us about her?”

 

“Not much," I said calmly. “I know that she wants to create the ultimate weapon to use. I know that she has long been a threat, but was granted leniency, because of her talents. Elza Aimes, I believe her name is. Now, if that’s all . . .," I trailed off.

 

“And what are you?" asked the Sea King, and no, I’m not making that up. There really is a Fae called ‘Sea King’.

 

“Oh, I’m just lucky. And I’m not yours.” Zee breathed in sharply. “Besides Fae have suffered, because you refused to deal with one of yours, and I’ve been cleaning up the mess.”

 

“You are part of the mess," said another of the Grey Lords.

 

“Well yeah, but I’m all clean now.” I waved my fingers at them. “See? All clean. I’m all ironed out and straightlaced. Now may I go, m’Lords or do you want me to do your ironing as well?”

 

“Ash Cassidy of the Whisper Man, you will tell us where your allies are or-," the little girl started, but I finished it.

 

“Or what exactly? Torture me? Magic me? Go after my friends?" I asked sharply. “Well, I’ve got news for you, it’s all been done before. They had seventeen years to be creative, along with several recaptures. So, do your best, dearies, because my head is a very scary place to be.”

 

I smiled cheerfully at them. Somewhere Roe is screeching her head off about how stupid I am, but I couldn’t care. These beings had allowed Herr Mutter to torture hundreds, and that couldn’t go unaccounted for. Samuel and Bran kept quiet behind me; they knew that this was my battle. If the Marrok or his Wolves attacked a Fae, there would be war.

 

“We will contact you later," one of the Fae said diplomatically. There wouldn’t be a large battle right now, sorry. The Fae like to whittle the force down, make me think that I wanted to join them. And yeah, it wasn’t a bad thought. I had a bit of magic, they could sense, why wouldn’t I want them on my side?

 

Because, the Grey Lords are the most selfish, powerful creatures you will ever meet. Magic breeds jealousy, breeding deception and anger.

 

But I nodded calmly, keeping a firm poker face while making damn sure that they couldn’t sense how strong I am. The Fae teleported me, Bran, and Samuel back into the Marrok’s house.

 

We all stood there for a moment.

 

“So, that happened," I spoke up.

 

“Why do they want you?" Samuel asked.

 

“Because I’m different, and that makes me dangerous. Also, they wanted to know what I know, and make damn sure that I don’t know anything they don’t want me to.” Bran raised his eyebrows at me. “And no, they’re not stupid enough to attack the Marrok or my Pack, and that scares them.” I grinned cheerfully. “And that brings me to my next point. How likely are you to kill or fuck with my Pack, because that’s what all this has been coming to?

 

“20%," Bran answered carefully.

 

“Technically, I’m a Lone," Samuel shrugged at me. “Da’s worried that you have crazed Wolves or something.”

 

“I don’t," I muttered darkly. “My Pack maintains most of the common Laws. Don’t change nobody without permission from the Alpha and that person, and make sure they know what they’re getting into. Nobody kills anybody without permission. Control must be taught before folk are allowed to be Lone. My problem is that if you meddle in my Pack’s affairs, they won’t take kindly to it.”

 

What I meant is that there will be war if Bran acts like a self-controlling dick. Yeah, we’re doomed, aren’t we?

 

“I can act nice," Bran muttered, whining almost. I smirked at him. “Fine, I will do my very best to not meddle, Ash.”

 

“Swell. And none of yours will either, right? And yes, that includes Samuel.” Bran glared at me.

 

“None of mine will meddle in your affairs, or I will have a word with them," he finally conceded.

 

“Awesome. Now, how’d you like to meet my Alpha?”

 

*To Be continued*

 

Author: hahahahaha you can’t kill me yet *dances out of the way of audience* because *ducks tomato* now that was rude, because I haven’t finished yet.

Muse: ‘sides, George could always kill Bran.

Audience and Author: You wouldn’t!

Muse: I’m evil, remember. *bites into apple to look like more of an asshole*

Author:*groans* this means more work, doesn’t it.

Audience: *puppy eyes*

Author: Fine *stumbles back over to keyboard to start the next chapter*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://members.shaw.ca/jheller/hurog/BransHouse1a.html Blueprints to Bran’s house, according to Patricia Briggs. Sorry for the lateness of this, didn’t have a great week(*bad life choice*). So expect a few mistakes. Sorry, but I didn’t want to keep y’all waiting.
> 
> Discrepancies: Uh, I found out that Charles doesn’t have any guest bedrooms(apparently he really doesn’t like visitors(duh). So, uh sorry for that discrepancy(I just assumed and didn’t bother to check, because most people have more than one bedroom). I refuse to change it, because seriously, who doesn’t have two bedrooms, besides city housing? I also found out that Briggs uses the American spelling for ‘Grey Lords’. Whoops. I do the English version for the sole purpose of Fae origins which are European folklore(not entirely true, because there is African Fae and others, but that’s where the majority of the folklore came from). Yeah. Uh, nobody ever exactly says how old Bran is actually. Samuel is at least 700 years(he was around during the Black Plague), and I just added another 200, because Ash exaggerates sometimes. Briggs never says, because she says she wants to use it in later books. Although, the general consensus is that they’re over a thousand years old. Charles was born in 1813, which is just a random fact. Like that is an actual fact. So he’s only like 196 when Moon Called took place, again, fact(Rule 666TM, if it’s on the Net, I will find it). Which, if you think about it is sort of insane compared to Samuel and Bran, because who acts the youngest? Samuel does, thank you very much.
> 
> The Fae thing happened, because Ash demanded it. Whoever gets the Whisper Man reference, gets a cookie. If you don’t, go read some Tamora Pierce, because it is awesome.


	17. The Whisperman Pack

Last Time: _“Awesome. Now, how’d you like to meet my Alpha?”_

 

 

* * *

 

Two Months Ago:

_I stumbled back into the cell. The guards chained me back up the wall, tugging the cuff cruelly on my bleeding leg. The Marrok snarled at me. I flinched away, curling my legs up, and shuddering. I wanted to be brave, but well, it’s hard when you’re trapped up with two Wolves and smelling like a juicy, bleeding red happy meal._

_The guards tossed a box of medical supplies in after me, slammed the gate and walked away, laughing. The box landed next to The Beast. I froze._

_I’d learned that little humanity of Bran Cornick had been overrun by the death of his mate. All that was left was the terror of Medieval Europe, The Beast. The only reason why the Wolf was wearing a human skin, was because of the silver cuff that clasped around each of our wrists. It prevented our magic, including shifts, and pretty much anything to get us the fuck out of here._

_I got to wait for George to show up and get me, basically. Oh, and try to not get eaten by a crazed Werewolf._

_We all sat there for several long moments. Eventually, The Beast(I’ve heard the stories okay- there are Reasons why people like me don’t tangle with the Marrok), picked up the medical box and sidled over to me. He’d kept his distance for the past week, mourning his dead mate. Neither him nor Arielle had said a word to me. I didn’t expect them to. Arielle wasn’t used to this awesomeness, and the Beast was a little too used to death to be properly bothered by torture or rape._

_I didn’t move, breathing shallowly, and making damn sure to keep my head down. There wasn’t any need to die while I was being stupid. Arielle kept to her corner, watching the events unfold. I tried to signal, to ask if she was alright, but she merely stared._

_Beast touched my injured hands. The doctors had broken all ten of my fingers to teach me not to heal anybody in the cell. They’d also broken a couple ribs, and ripped out some fingernails like proper movie villains. The thing is that you never get accustomed to pain, not matter what the books tell you. The bad guys always come up with new methods to make the ouch stick around. You stop getting hurt for a couple months, let your body get used to not going hungry, and it will take a mile out of your control._

_Beast bumped my fingers, roughly examining the cuts, and broken bones. I did not snap at him. Wolves have a Thing about being told off. He growled at my fingers, and jerked at my shackle. I hissed at him, in pain. I’d already tested whether or not the cuff would come up, and some tech had heated it up so it burned some of my flesh off._

_Beast glared back at me. He set my fingers, and wrapped them up tightly. I tried to keep still._

_“Why are you helping me?" I whispered. “I hear you hate people.”_

_He didn’t answer, but that was just as well. Bran’s Wolf was supposed to be brilliant. There could be a hundred reasons why he did something. Maybe he was repaying me for going in his stead over the past week. Maybe he wanted to trick me, and kill me later. Beast tried to lift my shirt up, nosing at my broken rib with his face. I instinctively swatted his nose._

_“Bad Wolf, no biscuit," I said, stuffing my fear down in some crevice. Beast merely snorted at me, and continued prodding at my chest until I finally gave in, and lifted up my shirt. The Beast poked hard at my rib, and tapped it up. Then, he went back to his own corner. I sat there for a moment, properly stunned. Apparently, people had been underestimating Bran’s Wolf, which is highly ironic._

* * *

 

Of course it wasn’t that easy. I grimaced as I called George up, and put him on speaker on Bran’s dining room table. This was going to be great. Not.

 

“Hey," I said calmly.

 

“      ,” the silence answered.

 

“You’re on speaker.” Bran just looked at me like I was crazy. “So, I figured you should meet Bran and -” the dial tone rang, signaling that George had hung up the phone. Samuel raised his eyebrows at me. “He’s uh shy. Very shy. Not much of a people person.” I hit re-dial. “Look, y’all are gonna run into each other eventually so stop being a whimp.”

 

“Fine," George sighed at me. “Also, you’re a fucking moron, Ash. This is never going to work, and the Marrok is going to kill everybody and-” This time I hung up the phone in punishment. George called back a millisecond later. “This is still a massively dumb idea.”

 

“Eh, doesn’t top the pink cake of two summers ago," I said cheerfully. We were still finding sprinkles on the roof.

 

“Point," George said. “I’m George Whisperman, for the record.” This was directed at Bran.

 

“I am Bran Cornick the Marrok of the North American Wolves," he answered solemnly.

 

“Okay then. This all went badly. George, I’ll be home by three days from now, alright?" I added hastily before George could crack out a can of sass.

 

“Yep, and we’ll be prepared," George said ominously, and hung up the line.

 

“So that was short?" Samuel queried.

 

“Yeah, well, I wanted to give George a heads up. You know, so he can dust, and actually put the dishes in the dishwasher for a change.”

 

“So, you really want to do this?" Bran asked.

 

“It’s either this or George drives into Aspen Creek one day randomly.”

 

“And it has nothing to do with the Fae, right?" Bran snarked at me.

 

“Honey, if I didn’t spend half my time thraughting politics, I’d still spend too damn long thraughting politics," I snarked back, kicking the man lightly.

 

“So how do you expect this to play out, Ash?” Samuel stretched.

 

“I get to drive you to an undisclosed location as a sign of good faith, because the man I want to introduce you to a man that makes Bones look like he loooves space and change in comparison.” I stretched as well, and started back toward the guestroom. “And with that, I’m going to throw on some actual clothes and brush my hair. Maybe, I’ll get crazy and end up looking like a human being.”

 

I went and got changed, and came back down. Bran and Samuel were still there, staring at each other. I rolled my eyes. “Look, my Pack’s honorable, they’re not going to piss off the scary monsters. I’m not trying to stab anybody in the back here, I’m trying to see if y’all can get along so I can stop babysitting, alright?" I asked them sincerely.

 

“I’ll go start the car. Charles can be in charge until we get back.” Samuel left, grabbing a duffel bag at his feet. Swarmy bastard, he was planning on going. Bran had a similar bag at his.

 

“Have you thought this through?" he asked me.

 

“Yes.” I wanted to scream at him that courting me is a horrible idea, because that’s what he’d been doing with the coffee and the breakfast, and I just- you know? It’s hard to hate somebody that’s trying. “You know that us is a horrible idea?" I finally asked.

 

Bran shrugged at me. “Haven’t you said good things about horrible ideas, about how they’re often the best option. Becoming my mate would be beneficial for both of us.”

 

Turns out, not so hard. I met his eyes coldly, “Ah yes, because marrying somebody for political reasons is so on my agenda, Mr. Cornick. Thank you for helping me tick that off my list. I assume that we will now travel by carriage in reminiscence of the 18th century. If you excuse me, your Lordship, I will go wait with my escort.”

 

I marched out of his house, politely slamming the door in his face(literally). I clasped my arm around Samuel, and said “Kind sir, my you do me the honor of accompanying me?”

 

“Yes, I will," Samuel answered, carefully not smirking at his father. He did raise his eyebrows in a ‘you are certainly an idiot’ expression at the other man. Werewolf hearing, sometimes useful.

 

The only problem with blowing up at Bran was that I got to spend a long(about five hours) car trip with the man. Yippee. You may think I’m overreacting, but Bran has a way of trying to bullshit people with the most subtle meanings, and my interpretation is 100% accurate.

 

I drove. Samuel rode shotgun, and Bran ended up in the back seat. Serves him right. I don’t hold much stock in true love, but I was not going to marry somebody, because it would be ‘beneficial’. Samuel kept clenching at the handle above his door. I rolled my eyes, and shifted up a gear. George makes everybody learn combative driving before letting us go anywhere fun, something about how it cuts down on car incidents, which is sort of unlikely. I spun the wheel, taking a curve harshly, and drifted back, while staring at Samuel with a blank expression, daring him to say anything.

 

“I dare you to try this on Charles," Samuel responded easily, but he kept a solid grip on the handle.

 

“Ah, you know you love it.” I grinned at him.

 

“Where even is your Pack?" Samuel asked.

 

“Up near Kalispell, Montana, or at least a bit of it is there. My Pack is spread out, nationwide. George wants to send a couple people overseas, but I’m trying to talk him out of it. We’re spread out across the county. I generally run a bar downtown. George is up in the mountains with the base group. I’m gonna warn you, some of the folk there have weird idiosyncrasies.”

 

“Are they dangerous?" Bran spoke up. He carefully didn’t look at the rear view mirror, and risk meeting my eyes.

 

“I wouldn’t play dominance games with them, Mr. Cornick," I said sharply, spinning the wheel and flooring it.

 

“Why are we even taking the car again?" Samuel whined at me. Wolves are wonderful control freaks.

 

“Because, George will known when we enter the county. My leg still aches, and I wanted to return the car. Look, the people that are there are good people, they just have issues that would make Sherlock Holmes look like a well adjusted, socially happy person with a normal job. Like I said, people, especially Alphas, haven't been a real good experience for them.” I turned on the radio.

 

And that would be how we spent those five hours. Dead, fucking silence with only NPR for accompaniment.

 

Eventually, we made it to Kalispell. It took another hour as I drove up the winding roads, and slide to a stop in front of the ranch house. George’s property covered around a hundred acres, enough space for everybody to run free. The more volatile the person, the closer they lived to the main house. I got out in, standing carefully inside of the men. George strolled up in front of us.

 

“Howdy," George greeted. He kept his eyes nailed to the side of my face, only viewing Bran out of his peripherals.

 

“Hi, George”. I swept my gaze around the road. The trees were dense. George had chosen this place well, it was a kill zone. Samuel spread his feet lightly. I could feel Bran pasting an agreeable smile on his face. I kicked Bran solidly with my foot. “So, food?" I asked George seriously.

 

“Yeah.” George shook his head. “Yeah, c’mon.” George led the way to the main house’s kitchen. There were several building spread out across the main compound, including a few tiny houses, a barn, and a garage.

 

Roe was already baking several batches of cookies. I gently hugged her, and nicked a couple cookies. She glared at me, and grabbed a knife.

 

“You went after the bloody Marrok and went off the fucking grid with the damn Fae," She whispered. I rolled my lips down, and dropped my eyes. “And then you brought him into my bleeding kitchen.” I flinched, ducking my head.

 

“Sorry, Roe," I tried. She had a British accent that got thicker when she raged about the kitchen and gun range.

 

“I will deal with you later," she snarled at me. I winced. She dropped the anger suddenly and stuck out a hand at Bran. He took it, slightly off kilter. “Roe, George’s mate. Sorry for the ruddy mess around here.”

 

“It’s fine," Bran said quickly. “Bran Cornick.”

 

“Hmmm," was all Roe said.

 

“It’s a wonderful kitchen you have," Samuel said, trying to ease the tension. He shook Roe’s hand as well. “Samuel Cornick.”

 

“Pleased to meet you," Roe said, still glaring at me. I rolled my eyes. There hadn’t been exactly a lot of time to call back and explain why I stuck with Bran after the raid.

 

“Ash, there’s a couple cars that I could use you having a look at," George suggested at me. I raised my eyebrows at him.

 

“What? So y’all can kill each other?" I asked sharply. “Hm, I’ll take a look later, George-y.”

 

“Ash, please," Roe said.

 

I stared at her, but she tapped her side twice. I flinched slightly, and then nodded. George and she wanted to tell the Cornicks more information about the Schatten, and well, me. I’m brave, alright. There’s just some things that don’t need to be faced once more, and I didn’t need to see Bran realize how unsaveable I am. George needed to explain a lot of triggery shit so that Bran didn’t try to kill my Pack, and he didn’t need me here as a distraction, or an excuse to mince words.

 

George was going to tell Bran what I already knew anyway. George was going to say how the Whispherman Pack had formed.

*To Be Continued*

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day, the voices in my head are going to commit me to an institution. Yeah, the voices are going to say that I’m too crazy. *groans*. Google docs, I hate that you’re back to using squiggly lines to say when things are wrong.
> 
> Also, Welsh wedding traditions are weird. And so is handfasting(celtic tradition), because what if you fall into the bloody fire? Huh-hu? Are you just highly unlucky or do you have to spend a year and a day(or however long you promised) with your burn victim? The whole white dress thing didn’t happen until Anne of Burgundy was married to Louis XII of France in 1499. It’s also a sign of good luck if a bride tears her wedding dress. It’s traditional that the bride gets kidnapped by her family, and rescued by the groom’s family just before the wedding.
> 
> This is not a hint or anything. I just curious. #Rule 666(trademarked). And yeah, I try to remain six steps ahead so when Bran slams me with frying pan, I still won’t see it coming.
> 
> Ash’s thing about Beast comes from that she hates people to be caged. I mean she’s strong on things like paying for what you’ve done, but she knows there’s a difference between justice and trying to beat information into someone’s head. And I think she thinks that Beast has been punished enough. I mean he technically served like 50 consecutive life sentences. That’s not to say that Ash doesn’t know that he’s a cold-hearted killer, but so is she at times, and she’s not all that well versed in being strictly on the side of the white hats. Personally, she reminds me a little of Mal from Firefly or Parker from Leverage.
> 
> One day y’all(excluding thelightwithin, they do already), are gonna appreciate the obscure references. Let me know if I need to actually explain some of the nerd jokes. Uh, I think this is going to be more than twenty chapters long. Sorry. Blame the characters.The chapter is long, because I know y’all expected George, but I had to fit some background in this so yeah.
> 
> I also corrected the various misspellings of Hauptman as ‘Hampton’. Yell if I missed one or if some of the formating is wanky. This is the longest chapter thus far, and it deserves the extended notes, because research is how I conquer the block.


	18. Whisperman Pack Part Two

Last Time: _George was going to tell Bran what I already knew anyway. George was going to say how the Whispherman Pack had formed._

 

 

* * *

 

*Written in Third Person*

 

“So?" Samuel asked.

 

George went and opened a bottle of Everclear Vodka. “This stuff has the highest concentration of alcohol that is legal in the United States. Technically, it is banned in thirteen of those states, but it is surprising not banned in Montana. Yet," he added the last word as an after thought. George poured four glasses, and passed them around.

 

“What do you intend with my Pack?" Roe asked, keeping a steady hold of her glass.

 

“It’s a conundrum," Bran answered, swirling the Vodka around. “If I say that you’ve broken Pack Law, that means I am responsible for all wrongdoing. Your pack is unlikely to join mine, according to Ash, and she means it. But if I try to punish the criminals, then there will be open rebellion, and start a war among the wolves. I have no intention of causing needless strife among the packs. Yet, I can not have unknown Wolves running around.” Bran drank some of the vodka.

 

“Interagency cooperation," Samuel said suddenly.

 

“Huh?" George asked.

 

“Well, we treat the Fae separately, as long as they’re not going around killing people, and we even then, ask them before we deal with the problem. So we would treat each other like the NCIS treat the FBI," Samuel explained. He had a lot of time on his hands, and he felt for Ducky.

 

“And who would be the Federal Government?" Roe asked.

 

“Ash, if we all think she had enough sanity to handle this. She has a hand in all of this, and technically she’s still Lone," George said.

 

“Not anymore," Bran growled back. “She’s my mate.”

 

“She hasn’t accepted, Da," Samuel said.  
  


“Tell me what happened with the Schatten," George whispered. He looked slightly scared. Ash wasn’t exactly known for playing nice or dating or liking people at all.

 

Bran took a gulp of the vodka. “I gave out when Leah died. My wolf took over, and I didn’t have any control until about three days before you broke us out.”

 

Bran’s eyes flashed yellow for a millisecond. Samuel’s eyes darted to his father with that flash of power. Bran had been keeping it decently well together, but Ash was almost always helping him do that, up till now.

 

“She told me during the car trip that the only way to link it so that she could keep my wolf calm was through the Bond, but Ash didn’t say anything besides that.”  
  


“And you bought that?" Samuel asked in a decent amount of surprise.

 

“I know that Ash did her best to protect me and the other wolf.” The other three stared at Bran. The man didn’t say anything else. Ash wouldn’t want the stuff that had happened in there spread about.

 

“Right, well," George said. “Good fucking luck with Ash. I’d be very surprised if she even was attracted to men after the Schatten. And if you hurt her, Marrok, there will be war.”

 

“What happened four years ago?" Samuel asked.

 

“Roe and me got captured separately. We didn’t know each other back then. We ended up in a cell with Ash, but she wasn’t Ash back then. She was Experiment 738, codename PET.” George stopped and gulped down his shot and poured himself another. The Cornicks waited patiently. “Ash was one of the first to succeed, and they had her for about sixteen years, so she was no longer interesting enough to play with. She got stuffed in with the other experiments to patch up their injuries when the fun for the day was over. Ash was wild back then.” Roe took a drink in between George’s words. “We got out. She came with us for the hell of it. We did the best to teach Ash things, but well, four years does not change sixteen years of  hell.”

 

Samuel had to take a moment and breath slowly in and out. He tossing back the vodka sharpley. Captivity was a trigger for all of them. Bran hadn’t spent those years alone after all, and humor hides a lot of sharp edges.

 

“We made a place here, and Ash eventually learned some societal norms, enough to run a bar downtown.” Roe said, taking over the explanation. “We started recruiting some Lones, and rescuing others from the Schatten. We never set out to defy you, Marrok. Hell, the Schatten changed George and I so we didn’t even know that there was a Marrok until a couple months after our escape, and we didn’t want to start listening to another Alpha. The Schatten had you for a month, they had us for a year, and Ash for sixteen. People can be very creative, Marrok. We didn’t know enough about you until very recently to even think about approaching you.”

 

“But you wouldn’t now, anyway, if it weren’t for Ash," Bran said.

 

“No, we wouldn’t. Our Pack has done very well with keeping its anonymity. Our people don’t want to be bothered, Marrok. I guess that we’d run into each other eventually, because we have horrible luck sometimes, but nobody here wants to play mind games," George tossed in.

 

“Except Ash," Bran said.

 

George shook his head at him. “Ash is a kid, Marrok. Hell, she can’t even legally drink and don’t give me that ‘she could in my time’ bullshit.”

 

“And if she makes adult decisions?" Bran asked carelessly.

 

“Then it’s on her.” Roe shrugged. “She’s family, Pack, but she is not a possession to be had or control.”

 

“Well then, anything else anybody wants to say?" Samuel asked.

 

“Why the names George Whisperman and Ash Cassidy?" Bran asked.

 

“Ash likes Tamora Pierce a little too much, and said that I reminded her of the master spy George Cooper. I don’t know about her own name. She said she didn’t want to say, and we only asked once.”

 

“I need to make sure that you keep your wolves in control," Bran said quietly.

 

“We do," George said, equally soft. “The Schatten encouraged volatile wolves. The people that live on the property have Problems. If they don’t learn control within a year from the time they get here and healed, they’re killed, same as the Marrok Pack. It’s harsh, but we can’t have people that know the things they do out in the world if they can’t control themselves.”

 

“But Ash helps, doesn’t she?" Samuel asked.

 

“The Schatten specifically bred Omegas and used them to control dominate Wolves. Yeah, Ash helps.”

 

“I thought you had created a perfect island for wolves," Samuel said cooly.

 

“What? Right next to a magical unicorn stable, and an island of Fae not being underhanded or Congress actually doing stuff? This isn’t a fairytale, Mr. Cornick. To Ash, this is a harbor in a storm, but she’d be fine riding the waves. Some folk wouldn’t be, that’s all this is. There’s still storms, and people still die, but we try to lessen that. Isn’t that all anybody can do?" George asked sharply. Roe nudged him.

 

“Alright. I think the intercooperation idea is good. I’m going to go find Ash. Please excuse me.” Bran quickly left.

 

“Tell her dinner’s at 7 sharp," Roe yelled after him.

 

“Alright, I say fifty on Ash punching him at some point," George said.

 

“Fifty on Bran buying her roses. She’s allergic," Roe explained to Samuel.

 

“Fifty on Da trying old fashioned courting like high priced restaurants," Samuel grinned at the other two. This might be a little unfair.

 

“Done," George said. They forked their money onto the table. Samuel listed an IOU, saying that he was good for it. “Which ever happens first wins.” All three nodded.

  
*To Be Continued*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in third person for part of it, because I have a hard time getting inside Bran’s , Samuel, and Roe’s heads, and George’s mind is just fucking scary. Seriously, it’s like a combination of Nate from Leverage and John McClane from Die Hard. And yeah, Ash would never tell me this.
> 
> George’s favorite drink is a modified Black Russian, which is usually 5 parts vodka, 2 parts coffee liqueur served on the rocks. George’s is 50/50 with no ice and real black coffee, and I mean military strong coffee that burns the back of your throat with the cold, bitter taste(any other way dilutes the taste of death too much for him). Seriously, you should be scared of George.
> 
> I love Samuel’s solution by the way, because it is so not going to be that simple. Also, Bran and George are Tobias and Gibbs. And yeah, I wrote all that to make that joke.
> 
> If you write 3.14 backwards with a triangular four, it spells Pie. Barcodes are also very very confusing.
> 
> You know what comes up on Vodka pages? Adds about the ten signs of liver damage. I found out that cold vodka has no taste, while warm vodka is overpowering. So technically, George’s coffee has to be served cold and mixed with vodka to give it the kick he wants. Roses are actually one of the best flowers for pollen sensitive(is that a thing? I’m making it a thing) people, but I wouldn’t let any of my characters be allergic to chocolate. Although, I guess Asil could do something special to the roses(I am not a gardener, okay.).


	19. Friendly(Sort of)

 

Last Time _:“Alright, I say fifty on Ash punching him at some point”, George said._

_“Fifty on Bran buying her roses. She’s allergic”, Roe explained to Samuel._

_“Fifty on Da trying old fashioned courting like high priced restaurants”, Samuel grinned at the other two. This might be a little unfair._

_“Done”, George said. They forked their money onto the table. Samuel listed an IOU, saying that he was good for it. “Which ever happens first wins.” All three nodded._

* * *

 

I kept myself busy, working on the belly of a recent addition to George’s car lot. George is better with guns, and Roe is better with food, than with cars. Yeah, I want to talk to Mercy Thompson as well, but that wasn’t likely to happen. Hell, the only reason why I left that kitchen was because I trust the Marrok to sort most of his shit out, without my interference. Nobody likes being used because of a certain way they were born. The sooner Bran got over his Issues, the better for everyone.

 

“I was a jerk," Bran said loudly, entering the garage.

 

“No shit, Sherlock. Wait, did you meet Arthur Conan Doyle? You did, didn’t you?”

 

“Possibly. I’m sorry.”

 

“Possibly-period, sorry or possibly-hyphen-sorry?”

 

“The former.”

 

“Well, at least you lie well, Bran Cornick," I said sharply, and turned to leave.

 

“I’m not lying," Bran snapped back.

 

“Yeah, well, you’re not being completely honest. Thanks for playing the game, though, of trying to bullshit me.”

 

“What do you want me to do, Ash? You want me to be honest but-”

 

“I want you to be honest, and don’t try to fucking hide that you’re going to try to manipulate me," I cut him off. “And I am very very sorry if I do not fit on your chess board, Marrok. I play checkers, ever think of that!? And if I’m now unattractive to you or you’re gonna treat me like a damn victim, then . . .what are you doing?” Bran took off his shirt.

 

“Wrong moment?” Okay, the Marrok doesn’t know what to do with women. His Wolf was better than this.

 

I took a deep breath and counted to ten, in Norse, making sure that the runes lined up neatly in my mind. “You could say that.” My voice cracked slightly, shaking with the urge to blast him through the wall. “You should be very very glad that I like 50% of you, enough to not set you on fire. Barely.”

 

Bran put his shirt back on. “I thought-” He thought that my anger was caused by sexual tension, because hey, that’s how it works in all romance books, folks. Sex always happens midway through the book, and everything's a-okay after that, and nobody ever gets pregnant or catches an STI or STD.

 

“I’m just gonna stop you there. You thought wrong. I am not the chick that will be thwarted by a naked, objectively attractive man. I am not somebody that’s gonna marry for political reasons. There is such a thing as platonic friendship. Don’t you get that I just want to be your friend, at the damn most, so stop trying to sex me up! What if I like women or I have an STI or something?!”

 

Not that STIs prevent relationships (or should prevent relationships), just that you should know your partner’s sexual history before bodily fluids are exchanged.

 

“You like men as well. Healing factor. And you are my best option.”

 

“And that, right there, is why there will be no sex or mating or weird werewolf rites," I snarled at him.

 

“See, you get mad when I’m honest, but you get mad when I lie," Bran said.

 

“Yeah, that would be known as ‘Manipulation Syndrome’, because you only tell me the truth when it’s beneficial to you or you think it’s what I want. Maybe you should try to find better morals.”

 

“I will not change for you, Ash Cassidy.”

 

“I know. My advice would to pick one way and stick with it or change because it is the better option.”

 

“I haven’t been manipulating you," Bran protested.

 

“Pancakes? Snuggling? Not killing my family, even though Law states you should?" I asked. “Look. I’ll be  . . .well, not alright, but I’ll stay until you get control on your Wolf, Bran. This-” I gestured at the air between us. “-is not a permanent solution. I want to be wanted for me, not because I’m the best solution to your problems. No expectations. Okay?”

 

“Alright. No expectations of romantic entanglements," Bran said, sighing.

 

“Awesome, wanna go watch Firefly?" I asked with a grin, bouncing at him. I really don’t like drama or fighting with people.

 

“What’s Firefly?”

 

“You are a crime against science fiction, come on. You’ll love Mal.”

 

We walked back to the house. George was rushing around, grabbing a kit. Roe looked worried. Samuel was tense.

 

“What’s going on?" I asked, catching a bag that George threw at me. It had some overnight clothes.

 

“Jane called. Mack’s in a bad way.”

 

“Mack’s new," I explained to Bran. “He lives with an older Wolf, Jane. She say what triggered it?" I asked George.

 

“News," he said. I grimaced and nodded.

 

I followed him. Roe would stay behind to man the house. Samuel and Bran were coming. Samuel for medical, and Bran, I think, out of curiosity.

 

* * *

 

Mack lived in a hut, around a hundred meters from the main house. Jane, a witch, could normally keep him calm. However, Fox news on their anti-werewolf crusade would piss anybody off.

 

I gently knocked, and entered the four room hut. Mack was curled up in a corner, snarling at at all of us. Jane was crouched low, in front of Mack. She wasn’t shaking at least, and she kept her head lower than Mack. The Schatten had experienced on Subs by trying to make them more violent. First rule of animals: cornered animals are infinitely more dangerous. Do I really need to spell it out for you?

 

I tugged off my shoes, and socks. The doctors wear shoes; experiments don’t wear shoes. I breathed slowly, scenting the air, tasting it. Mack stunk of fear and self-loathing. Mack’s head kept jerking around in spandatic movements, moving closer to Jane, and then twitching away with his eyes swinging around.

 

“Mack, I need you to describe everything to me," I said, walking straight up to him, and crouching, forcing him to shrink back for a second for moving at me. “Mack," I said firmly. “Tell me everything you feel, NOW.”

 

“Floor. Wood. Cedar. No shoes. I-Ash?" Mack asked, shaking slightly.

 

“Yeah, tell me where we are, Mack.” I kept channeling Omega energy toward him.

 

“George’s. Jane?" he whispered.

 

“I’m right here," Jane said quickly.

 

I slid down the wall next to him. Bran met my eyes with a pained expression. I flicked my eyes at the door, and he left, along with Samuel. George raised an eyebrow at me, but I tilted my chin, and he left willing. Mack is around fourteen. He’d only been out for nine months, but he had picked up control quickly.

 

“Come on," I said, pulling Mack up. “I  vote mac and cheese, and some Rise of the Guardians. No more news for a bit, okay?”

 

“I’m not a child," Mack protested.

 

“If it makes you feel better, George forbade me from reading or watching Dark Angel.”

 

“Hmm, what’s it about?" Mack asked.

 

“Spy stuff, I think," I said. Okay, so I watched it, and yeah, George was right.

 

“You gonna go get your boyfriend?" Mack asked me.

 

“Huh?" I asked. I moved the air slightly, around the house. George, Bran and Samuel were still outside of the hut. “Y’all can go.”

 

“Is it alright if I come in?" Bran asked, knocking lightly.

 

“You know, when people say ‘go away’, they mean it," I said irritably. “And he’s not my boyfriend," I told Mack. He only smiled at me, and went to go help Jane in the kitchen.

 

“Please?" Bran asked, kicking the door gently. I could hear Samuel snort. I sighed and opened the door.

 

“Well?" I asked.

 

“Ash are you sure that-," George started, but I slammed the door in his face.

 

George knew exactly what I was doing. Samuel probably did to, and that’s why he didn’t stay. Three dominant Wolves were bad to have under one roof if they didn’t like each other all that much. Bran had been close to the edge when Mack was freaking out. Bran is an Alpha, and he is honor bound to protect submissives. It had taken George a fair amount of time to learn to delegate some of it to me, but Bran didn’t have anybody that he could trust here and he was already living it on the edge.

 

“So?" I asked Bran, nudging his foot with mine. He stared at me with a constipated look for a minute. “What’s up?" I asked, whispering and blocking the air around us. Nobody could hear us.

 

“Can you show me how to keep control over my wolf?" Bran asked softly, barely meeting my eyes.

 

*To Be continued*

Author: and now, I will go google things like ‘how does Bruce Banner do it?’

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I got distracted for a couple days, because I had to write something else, and it was sort of awesome(feel free to check it out ‘cause I’m proud of it at least). And then it took me a couple days to detox from other character. *My mind is a scary place*. Then I had SATs, because yeah. And now, I really really want to grab Chris Evans, and reenact a few movies, and yeah, the test answers wouldn’t end up in the bathroom.
> 
> My thing with Bran is that it has been a very very long time since he’s dated, like at least a hundred years, and Ash doesn’t exactly go for flowers. I kinda wanna slap Bran as well, and then give him the manual on dating Ash. Seriously, he needs a manual. They had to be friends, to actually enjoy each other(get your mind out of the gutter) to go anywhere else. Ash is easygoing with Bran, because she acts that way with everybody, and yeah, Bran didn’t get that Ash flirts with everybody.
> 
> I get that y’all expect a typical romance story, the kind that Ash ranted about. I had a person comment about how I build things up to, only to become anti-climatic. This happens because I made a deal with myself when I starting working on this fic; I had to write it honestly. I couldn’t self-insert myself or twiddle the characters where I want them. I had to be true to the characters, even if they prefer understatement and subtext, to drama. It sucks, and I’m sorry. I hate that romance books always have the two characters hating each other, having mistaken sex(*casually checks rating-still good*), realizing they love each other, and yay happy ending. So yeah, I work hard(so many rewrites) to make it more believable, and less like a Disney movie(well, I create some drama and feels). I’m sorry if that’s not what you’re looking for. And yeah, I think deeply about people’s input(hours- so uh feedback is highly appreciated) but I have to stay true to the characters first, audience second, and self third(sometimes second).
> 
> Also, the Fox news thing should be legit in Briggs’s books. All criticism of Fox news or of author on politics will be ignored. (http://latino.foxnews.com/latino/news/2014/12/30/werewolves-argentina-president-adopts-young-man-in-accord-with-medieval/) Like they actually thought werewolves exsisted in Argentina. Rise of the Guardians happened, because it is a good movie, and it was the only non-traumatic movie I could think of. Disney movies are weird. Side note: there are websites to say what movies have tiggers or phobias.


	20. Beast(AKA not the last of me)

Last Time: _“What’s up?”, I asked, whispering and blocking the air around us. Nobody could hear us._

_“Can you show me how to keep control over my wolf?”, Bran asked softly, barely meeting my eyes._

* * *

_  
_

**Flashback: 2 Months Ago- Beast’s point of view**

_The girl was shivering and wet. I snarled. Women are weak; they smell like food, but this one was different. She smelled strong, of the world outside. I growled at her; my stomach rumbled with the low roar. She smiled at me, and raised an eyebrow._

_“Oh, darling, you got nothing on what’s coming," She said gently. It had been three days since I bandaged her wounds. There was not any harm in keeping her alive; they always went for her first. I snarled at the human, still stuck in the back of my head, wanting to cry more over his dead mate. She was mine, yes, but I was NEVER hers. Stupid BASTARD. I slammed the door shut on his face._

_I snarled again. “I don’t answer to you, bitch," I rumbled at her. She didn’t blink._

_“Well, at least you can talk. I guess I could’ve been stuck with Hitler or something. Oh, wait.”_

_“I didn’t have a damn fucking choice, lady. It was kill them or kill Samuel," I snapped at her. I would make the same choice in a heartbeat._

_“That’s how you broke it? She asked you to kill your own son?” She nearly laughed at me. “Are you saying that Dumbledore was right? Love is the greatest weapon? OMG.”_

_“Shut up," I roared at her._

_“No. Because you have been all broody for the past three days, and well, I’m bored. BORED!," she yelled at the guards. “Can’t y’all come up with something more imaginative than water boarding?! Huh? HEY THERE! Don’t you want to play a little game with me? I swear you can’t make me break, BASTARDS!," She continued yelling at them, mocking their interrogation techniques._

_“You’re certifiably crazy," I hissed at her._

_“Yes, well, I like shivering so you can stay dry, and everybody lives for another day, Berserker.”_

_She continued to grin at me. I finally remembered, her name is Ash Cassidy. Bran had kept things hidden from me, but she was interesting, and there’s only so many places you can hide inside your own mind._

_And that’s when I realized that she knew exactly what I was, what I was capable of, and she didn’t appear to fear me._

 

* * *

 

**Now: Ash’s POV**

 

“Tomorrow," I said easily. “This is more of a ‘middle of the forest so nobody can hear you scream’ type of thing.”

 

“Ah. That’s your master plan. Kill me in a forest. I understand now," Bran said, mock serious.

 

“Oh yeah. Come on, I can kill you tomorrow. Food will not wait, I say!" I half shouted, breaking the spell that kept the others from hearing.

 

“So mac and cheese?" Bran said, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Comfort food, what does the scary Marrok not like cheese or something?” I shoulder-checked him.

 

“He’s the MARROK?" Jane yelped at me. I cursed silently(fourteen year old does not need ammunition). George had notified everybody that Bran and Samuel were coming here, but they didn’t really have photographs.

 

“Your boyfriend is the Marrok?" Mack yelled at me. “Awesome!” And yes, he meant that in a non-sarcastic way.

 

“Not my boyfriend. He’s the Sherlock to my John Watson. Yes, he’s Bran Cornick, but no maiming has happened so  . . .so far so good.” I shrugged at them. “Seriously, we eat now? Yes?” I started grabbing stuff. I kept outside of Mack’s space-bubble.

 

So that would be how we spent the evening. I made mac and cheese, and watched Rise of the Guardians. Everybody was cool, because Bran made sure to do shit like looking harmless. Seriously, he balanced on a chair for over five minutes.

 

Mack and Jane went to their respective couches. Bran and I pulled out the sofa bed. I curled up against him, sans Wolf form.

 

“My opinion of you hasn’t changed with George," Bran said softly.

 

“I know. Thank you," I said, sincerely grateful. I pressed my face into his chest, and fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

*Next Day*

 

I led the way out into the middle of the woods, away from everybody else. Bran seemed almost nervous over breakfast, and tense during the twenty minute walk. Well, he should be. Bran had agreed to follow my advice, unless it was realistically harmful. I stopped, and dropped my messenger bag on the dirt ground. We stood alone in a hollow that had been burned out by past magic, but had been well cleansed.

 

“So, the goal is to coexist side by side. Think of it like two currents flowing in the same river," I instructed.

 

“I thought I was supposed to be the one with weird metaphors, Ash," Bran snarked at me.

 

I shrugged at him, “Channel your inner Bruce Banner. Call him up politely. Just enough to change your eye color.”

 

“And how do I do that?" Bran snapped at me. I clasped his wrist, thumb on his pulse.

 

_Beast, you mind?_ I asked mentally, pushing a little sliver of energy at Bran at his chest area.

 

_Ash?_ Beast asked. And for the first time in over 900 years, Bran Cornick felt his Wolf rise up to meet him, and stop. I could sense it, through the bond.

 

Bran took a breath, and without thinking, slammed a wall back down, hurting his Wolf. I snapped together and nearly slapped him in the face. “Stupid," I hissed at him.

 

“What?" he asked. “It’s not like it hurts the thing.”

 

“Okay, messenger bag time," I said firmly. I pulled out a vial of muddy green solution, and a knife.

 

“Ash?" Bran asked, staring at the knife.

 

“I’m not gonna hurt you, idiot. Stand still, and hold this.” I thrust the vial at him. He held it carefully. I crouched and cut runes into the earth in a circle around the Marrok.

 

“Ash?" Bran asked again.

 

“I’m gonna get you a physical representation of your Wolf so y’all can actually talk.” I started carving similar runes in a separate circle about ten feet away from Bran.

 

“Excuse me?” Bran kept staring at me.

 

“Oh, relax. I’ve done this before. No lingering side effects, and when I break the spell, it will end or it should. Nothing to worry about. Promise.” I finished the circle. “Okay, so drink up.” Bran stared at me. “Look the other solution is more meditation and really that’s not going to work, because you still think Beast will kill people. So, drink up.”

 

Bran drank the vial, grimacing at the taste. He dropped to the ground, shaking slightly as white and black and blue energy streamed out of him, and landed in the other rune circle. I stood in the center of the two circles, but a couple of feet back so they had a clear sight.

 

Beast took the shape that was similar to Bran, but a little bit distorted. His eyes were yellow, and I knew his teeth were more Wolf. He snarled low at me.

 

“That was fucking stupid, Ash," Beast growled at me. Bran got to his feet, still shaking slightly. “You," Beast snarled at Bran.

 

“Me," Bran said back, growling lightly.

 

“Now, y’all will be civil or I will leave the both of you out here for a night, are we clear?" I snapped at the two males.

 

“Yes ma’am," Beast said, giving me a devil-may-care smile. I grinned at him. Bran inclined his head, staring at his Wolf in the flesh.

 

“Why do you have my shape?" Bran asked.

 

“Mirror image or so I’m told," Beast said. “Beast at your service, asshole.”

 

“ ‘Asshole’?" Bran asked.

 

“You locked me up for 900 goddamn years. Damn right you’re an asshole, bitch.” Have I mentioned that Beast swears? I think it’s because he likes doing things that Bran disapproves of. I’m a bad influence, what can I say?

 

“ _You tried to murder my people_ ," Bran roared, putting all of his dominance behind the words.

 

“I didn’t have a damn choice, you foolish man. It was kill them or kill our son.”

 

“He is no son of yours," Bran whispered. “He barely trusts me after all this time.”

 

“Now, that’s a lie," I said softly. The two males looked at me. “Samuel trusts you enough to not kill you. He’s trusted you with Pack business.”

 

“Only because I promised ‘never again’ ," Bran said. “I broke him. He’s never been right. Neither has Charles.”

 

“Yeah, that’s because they’re both stubborn assholes who pick more fights than I do," I snapped back at him. “Both of your sons are angry that they can’t do shit about your ‘dire wolf problem’. The best way to help them is get your shit together, both of you," I snarled at them.

 

“Why aren’t you scared of it?" Bran asked me curiously.

 

“Him," I corrected. “Maybe you don’t get it yet, but I’m not scared of Beast. I never will be, because he’s ruthless and horrible at times, but humans are the ones that have fucked me over. The Schatten proved that while I may be a failed monster, but at least . . .at least, I know what’s it’s like to be the worst option, to be the mistake, Bran.” I stared at him, trying to get him to understand. “I know what’s it’s like to kill, because it’s the better option, and not because it’s the only option. And you would damn me as well for it.”

 

“Is that what you feel?" Bran asked Beast.

 

“I get why you locked me up. I was dangerous. I don’t like that you did it, and used me.”

 

“And your use of me?” Bran looked slightly broken. Beast just looked tired.

 

“Your mother didn’t give me a choice. Ash showed me a better way, way that would give both of us what we want. You want to not kill people, and I want to not be locked up again.”

 

“I’ll try," Bran said finally. “Trust has to be earned.”

 

“And we’ve spent over 900 years hating each other.”

 

“Exactly. So, trial run?”

 

“Trial run," Beast answered. “Can you put us back together?” I nodded, and quickly broke the spell. I didn’t ask if they were sure. This was an important moment for them, and they were both old enough to make their own choices. Of course, I would make sure that they were being good, but it was still their choice.

 

Beast slide back into Bran’s body. Bran groaned for a second. I smirked at him.

 

“Shut up," he snapped at me.

 

“Y’all all good in there?” I smirked at him.

 

“You have a dirty mind, don’t you, Ash?”

 

“Oh yeah. Now come on, I’m hungry.” I paused for several seconds. “Hungry for food.”

 

“You know that not everything is solved, right?" Bran asked me.

 

“Oh, yeah. Not really, but at least you’re not all depressed about murdering thousands of people? Too soon?”

 

“Okay, you’re slap happy. Come on, I’ll make pancakes.”

 

*To be continued, in the same fic*

 

 

 

* * *

 

Author: And y’all are lucky that I don’t end the fic right here, and make a sequel, because I considered it for a moment, because seriously, Ash could have made a sequel joke. Seriously.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Well, I reached when I said this would be finished, and it’s not. So, may I trouble you to read a few more chapters? I learned that I can’t predict when the characters will be down, and I take back any criticism of authors that have the same problem. But, the fic is up to 135 pages, including author’s notes so that’s awesome(I do each chapter separately and group them from 1-9 and so on)
> 
> One day, I’m gonna hug Stan Lee, and say that the Hulk taught the werewolves control. Although, the studio of the Avengers admitted that ‘I’m always angry’ should not have been in the script.
> 
> Jane and Mack are unlikely to be important characters. I wanted to talk about the things Ash does for George and have Bran meet some people. I like Beast by the way. He demanded the flashback, and I thought it fitting.


	21. the one where Samuel asks about Ash's intentions toward his father

Last Time:

_“You know that not everything is solved, right?” Bran asked me._

_“Oh, yeah. Not really, but at least you’re not all depressed about murdering thousands of people? Too soon?”_

_“Okay, you’re slap happy. Come on, I’ll make pancakes.”_

*To be continued, in the same fic*

 

* * *

*Back at the Main House- same day as last chapter*

 

Samuel took in my slapp happy grin. “So it worked?" he asked me excitedly.

 

“Hopefully, yes. Knowing your da, he’s gonna duck it up somehow.” I bumped into Samuel. He caught me gently. I could feel the look he gave Bran. “Magic drunk," I told them happily. “I need like a hella lot of carbs, and you’re sparkly.” I poked Sam’s face. He didn’t blink. I smiled at him.

 

George grimaced at me. “Was that necessary?" he asked gently, catching me gently.

 

“Wells, I figures ya’anna ev’body s’ne.” I grimaced at the slurs. “ ‘M fine.”

 

“Come on, pancakes.” Bran led the way back into the kitchen. I followed sluggishly. Three stacks of pancakes, and six cups of coffee later, I was awake more or less.

 

“So any questions?" I asked, clutching my mug as a defense.

 

“My Wolf-Beast-you called him?-likes you? Why?" Bran asked.

 

“He calls himself that. Sort of an inside joke. I told him I’d pay my debt off by getting him a longer lease with you. It was my fault-”

 

“-Our," George cut in.

 

“Our fault that you didn’t know about the Schatten and couldn’t prepare.” I met his eyes slowly. “My fault your mate’s dead. My fault that I didn’t put it together fast enough. Your Wolf forgave me, and I owed him a debt for it. His forgiveness convinced me to actually get to know him.” I shrugged at them.

 

“I forgive you, but there is nothing to forgive. You thought I was likely to kill you and yours," Bran argued. “I would have done the same in your position.” He didn’t say it, but we both knew that I didn’t come forward, because Bran scares me sometimes. Less so, now, but he still does.

 

“So you’re friends?" Samuel asked.

 

“Yep. No expectations.” I kicked Bran hard in the shin.

 

“Ow, what did you do that for?”

 

“I know you.”

 

“No expectations," Bran agreed quickly.

 

“So what’s next on the agenda?" Roe asked me.

 

“I figure it’s time to take down the Schatten. We can’t report them to a government program, and some of the people there have too much knowledge to live, but their victims are dangerous.”

 

The rest of the people stared at me for a second, but nodded in agreement. Battle plan: take down a secret organization that’s spent the past seventy-ish years controlling dangerous things. Should be simple enough.

 

But we all benched that for a moment. I was still healing from the raid, and messing around with Bran. Bran is still catching up and adjusting. George is still worried about the consequences of Bran being here(so is Roe). So yeah, we might have sat around watching Firefly for the rest of the day, instead of being badass and making war preporations. It was the calm before the storm, in other words.

 

Samuel pulled me away after dinner. “So explain you and my da to me.” He kept a submissive posture that we both knew was bullshit. You don’t get to his age without looking harmless, and knowing exactly all the different ways a person can die.

 

“I introduced him to the Beast, and they’re co-existing more or less. I-I don’t want to be your da’s trophy mate, and I would be at the moment. I don’t know if I would date him. Men haven’t been a real good experience to me, Samuel, and your father is still a bastard.”

 

“He’s not so bad," Samuel protested gently. “He’s not abusive or -”

 

“-I know that," I snapped. “Look, I can’t give him  . . .you know when you moved to Washington?" I asked suddenly.

 

“How do you know that?”

 

“I know people who know people. Anyway, you didn’t go full Lone, did you? Mercedes Thompson became your Pack. You didn’t have the authority to order her around. You didn’t have to answer to her, and you didn’t need to worry about her constantly, because she was her own person. But you could still lean on her, and help her if she wanted it. That’s what I am to Bran right now. He doesn’t need to be responsible for me, and I don’t answer to him, but he can still lean on me. We’re equal in power, Samuel. That’s all.”

 

“And do you want more?" Samuel asked seriously. I checked to make sure that nobody could hear us. Samuel had asked me to put up listening spells so nobody could.

 

“I don’t know. I can’t be with somebody that wants me, because I’m the easy way out. I can’t be that, not after the Schatten.”

 

“And if he sees you?" Samuel asked softly. He gently wrapped an arm around me.

 

“Maybe. I don’t know. I’m not good with people, and I like him, Samuel. I can appreciate weird things, like the pancakes, and his odd humor, and sly nature, but I don’t know. I’m not good at the people thing, Samuel. And I’m sorry, because it’s your father, and you’re both over 900 years old, and I must seem like a child in your eyes.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “And I’m sorry that I have no answers for you.”

 

Samuel caught both of hands smoothly, wrapping them up gently. “Hey, it’s okay if you don’t know. I just wanted to talk to you for a moment. If you want to talk more, I’m here. Da’s . . . odd. If you want to talk or-?” I nodded at him. “My mate . . . she’s had bad experiences with Wolves. Just . . .if you need anything?” He seemed almost nervous. He probably didn’t like revealing things about his mate, if she’s had bad experiences with Wolves before.

 

“Okay. Thank you. If there’s anything I can do for you ever, let me know, yeah?" I asked awkwardly.

 

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.” He looked at me, slightly funny.

 

“I can hear your Wolf," I said cheerfully, like it was normal for people to do that.

 

“Oh.” Samuel was stunned. “I wondered why you don’t smell scared of me.”

 

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t seem to want to kill you.”

 

“Or we’d have a Problem.” He quirked his eyebrows at me. I smiled back. “Why do you call my father a bastard?" he asked suddenly. “if you know about his mother?” Samuel said the last word with the connotation that a person would give to ‘Hitler’.

 

“Sort of a backhanded compliment. It’s my off-color way of saying that his mother was shit, and so wasn’t his mother. It’s a nice reminder that I’m not gonna judge him on stuff he has no control over. It’s why I try very hard to not freak out over that you’re a male Alpha Wolf.”

 

“Succeed much in that?” He grinned at me.

 

“It’s the thought that counts," I grumbled at him.

 

“So you’re nervous of Charles and me, but not over the Marrok?" he asked incredulously.

 

“Oh, no. I have a healthy dose of fear that Bran won’t like Star Trek, or he thinks that Han shot second. Just like I think you switch back between insane and too sane quicker than you should. Just like I think that Charles’s strong sense of duty might crack under the pressure of killing too many folk, and you might crack under not saving enough of them.” I shrugged at Samuel. “I ain’t too scared of death. Done enough, seen enough. I’m not scared that y’all are gonna kill my Pack, not after knowing that they’ve been through hell. I worry about a lot of things, Doc, but you attacking me in cold blood is not one of them.”

 

“So, Firefly?" Samuel asked after a long pause. I grinned at him with a candid smile. I like this man, easy-going to a fault. It’s an odd quality for a Wolf to have, but he has it in spades. I think it’s from him having to deal with people being scared of his da. Samuel played the role of joker well.

 

“Hell yes.” Samuel hugged me, making sure to move slowly. I hugged him back, breathing in his scent(hush you shippers). I don’t know many good people, sincerely good people anyway. Roe and George are among the few that I like to enough to be weak around them. I’m used to stepping up into other people’s space, forcing them to back off. “You’re good people, Samuel. Now, I wanna go watch Mal be stupid.”

  
*To be continued*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could make a drinking game out of how often random characters have to stop me and be like “what?!”.
> 
> I’ve been nicely informed at Herr Mutter is horribly incorrect German. I apologize if anybody else speaks German and reads any of my stuff. Seriously guys, I do English and Spanish (barely) and nazis happened. Somewhere, Steve Rogers is angry. I don’t know if I should fix it at this point, because I’m twenty one chapters in, and yeah.
> 
> I get that Samuel is generally more smooth, but Ash kinda flips everybody around. It’s her superpower. Samuel has been in bad spots, emotionally, and Ash would take whatever’s left of that away. Samuel knows that smoothness is not the best approach with Ash. He’s more awkward, because he knows that if he’s more awkward, she relaxes more. And yeah, there are levels to their relationship, because it has to be weird that if Bran marries Ash, then she’d been the 20-something stepmom of a thousand year old werewolf. Luckily, Samuel is good with things that have been busted up. Seriously, they have such a bromance going on.
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry this chapter is a little on the late side. I wanted to take a couple days(whoops more than a couple), and get my head straight ‘cause Samuel is an interesting character. Yeah, Ash will be having more serious conversations with him, because he rocks.
> 
> Me: One day, I’m gonna finish this thing, and then my sleep cycle would totally go back to normal.  
> Muse: lol. *smiles*  
> Me: *firmly in denial* It’s okay, I like Egypt.  
> Mummies:* 0_0* You like Egypt even with the mummies?  
> Me: Yep, ‘cause I have a sword, have at thee! *swings sword at mummies*  
> Mummies: Run away, run away!  
> Author: eh, nobody reads these anyway. They have learned that it’s just better for me to use them to defeat the writer’s block.


	22. The War to End All Wars

Last Time: _“I figure it’s time to take down the Schatten. We can’t report them to a government program, and some of the people there have too much knowledge to live, but their victims are dangerous.”_

* * *

 

I shook. Cuts were on my hands, and I could barely breath. Bran was gasping on the couch.

 

* * *

 

48 Hours Earlier

 

“So how are we doing this?" Bran asked me. We were sitting on the couch. It was late.

 

“What the friend thing or the ‘destroying a secret organization’ thing?" I asked. George and Roe looked up from where they were sitting on the loveseat. Samuel was sitting on my left. Bran was on my right.

 

“Schatten," Bran said.

 

“Well, their main operation is where they held you at. I figured the way to do it is to attack all their places at once with volunteers.”

 

“And you know where they all are?" Samuel asked.

 

“Well, duh. We’re unprofessional but we-," George started.

 

“Do our research," Roe and I joined in with George. The others stared.

 

“It’s a nerd thing,” I explained.

 

“We’re waiting for John Green to make it official,” George continued.

 

“I sent them a letter, dear,” Roe reassured him. Nerd references, designed to confuse everybody.

 

“How’s Warren doing?” I asked Bran suddenly.

 

“Good,” Samuel answered instead. “He had to get the floors a little bloody, but he’s doing fine.”

 

“Good. Back to the whole Scott Pilgrim thing-”  
  


“You watch way too much social media,” Samuel cut in.

 

“I vote the whole attack at three am, just before the second shift comes on.”

 

“And who are we taking?” George asked.

 

“Any sane volunteers.”

 

“Short list that,” Roe muttered. I grimaced. A lot of us were sane enough to buy groceries, but it would go to hell if half of my people were confronted by a gun again.

 

“Some of the Marrok will be happy to help,” Bran offered carefully.

 

“The problem is magic users,” George explained. Look at us, being all civil while plotting murder.

 

“I can handle it,” I said at last. George stared at me.

 

“It’s not-” he started, but I cut him off.

 

“Name one other person besides Roe who can do what I can do.”

 

He couldn’t. Zee couldn’t do some of the things I did. Charles was the only magic user in Bran’s pack, discounting Mercy. He relied solely on Native American magic, which is not really known for Battle Magic. I’m a special snowflake.

 

“You’re the dangerous one, huh?” Samuel asked dryly. I smirked at him.

 

“There are Reasons the Fae don’t mess with me.” I shrugged at him. “There are Reasons why your da wants me on his side.”

 

“Hmm,” was all Bran said. I smirked at him lightly.

 

“So no subtle in this assault?”

 

“You take the doors, and I’ll take the witches and magic users. I figure that Bran’s pack gets them out.

 

“Sounds good.” We all nodded. We had all fought in wars before.

 

* * *

 

48 Hours Later

 

I leaned against Bran. He snarled at me, but didn’t move away. My hands were still stained red, despite ten minutes of washing them. I didn’t blame the Wolf for his snarling. I had killed his son after all.

 

* * *

 

It took a day for all of us to get into position. Bran called in some of the Marrok. It took time to drive, gather weapons, and map out positions. Storming the Schatten is like storming the Pentagon (not that I would have any experience with that).

 

There were no mid-battle speeches. Some underling of Bran’s killed Herr Mutter. Everything was over. I lost memory of most of the battle, because I was dueling magic users. I turned one into a tree. Numair would be proud.

 

It was all over until it wasn’t. Samuel leapt for a Schatten’s soldier. The man, acting with a small degree of sense, slashed the wolf in the stomach with a silver spear. The soldier had been about to kill a smaller wolf, Ben.

 

I shot the soldier point blank, but it was too late. Samuel fell to the ground. Bran and Charles rushed forward. The rest of the battle had died out. George’s people had gotten the captives out and far away.

 

I darted to Samuel’s side. He was bleeding heavily. I yanked off my messenger bag, and pulled out rolls of bandages. He was the worst injured, the man not meant for war.

 

Sam (not Samuel) snarled at me, and twisted around, dragging his guts behind him. JR Martin wanted to plagiarize his wounds. I kept perfectly still. The other Cornicks were glaring at me as well.

 

“I’m not here to hurt you, Sam.” I could feel George and Roe behind me, but they dared not move closer. Bran nudged his son and got him to settle down. I put pressure his stomach, trying to keep his important bits inside. Bran pinned the younger wolf down. Charles growled at me. I shook my head at me. “Let me look before you eat me. Easy, love.”

 

“How bad?” George whispered, knowing that I could hear.

 

“Bad. I’m gonna need the Supersized Bag.” George tossed it across the gap. Bran forked it over to me.

 

“Do you need him to change back?” Bran asked mentally. I grimaced.

 

“Easier to transport.” The wolf shook. “Easy. Shh, shh.” Sam whined at me, begging us to not force him. I grit my teeth. “Change, Sam,” I snapped out, harsh and cold.

 

He changed. I Pushed him through it. My hands shook, but it only took five minutes for a naked man to lay in front of me. I had to keep touching him to keep putting pressure on his stomach.

 

It took hours for his heart to stop. I poured magic into Sam, trying to save him. I nearly failed.

 

 

* * *

 

Now

 

George had gotten us back to Hauptman’s. It was close to the Fae, and Sam’s mate. Sam had yet to allow Samuel back into the driver’s seat. I had stitched up their chest and kept him still as I could. Nobody else had been stupid enough to get this injured.

 

Sam was asleep in a bed in Adam’s basement. I had talked them out of a cage. I soaked my hands, but my nails were still stained red. Over twelve hours in Sam’s chest would do that. This year was the wrong year to quit drinking, or so goes the saying.

 

“Here.” Adam handed me a beer. “Nothing you can do but wait.”

 

I took it, but didn’t open it. “I killed him,” I muttered softly. The other Cornicks ignored me.

 

“Not your fault.” Adam bumped my shoulder. “Ben’s doing fine by the way.”

 

I nodded. I’d also had to sew up Ben, because the wolf had been shot several times during the fight. Lucky bastard was still alive at least. Ben was in another room. Bran had shifted back, but Charles hadn’t. Neither of them had said a word, regardless of their state. Even Adam’s mate, Mercy, hadn’t dared come down in the dark atmosphere. I didn’t blame her.

 

“I’m gonna make porridge and pancakes,” Adam said at last. “Ash, can you take a look at Ben?” I nodded, and stood up, following the Alpha.

 

Adam’s kitchen was jam packed. All of his Pack were there. Several of George’s were there as well.  Darryl was making the flapjacks; auriele was handling the porridge. I stood with my back to the wall.

 

“You alright?” Mercy asked.

 

“Yeah.” I rubbed my eyes. “Sam should make it.” I didn’t know about Samuel. Adam handed me a cup of coffee. I stared at him. “You, sir, are amazing,” I told him. The magic-drunk kicked in three hours ago. I swallowed half it in one gulp. It was brewed military strong. “Mercy, you really need to hold onto this man.”

 

Magic-drunk. Mercy merely smiled.

 

“You need to eat something and sleep it off,” Bran said. Apparently he had followed me up. Adam backed off slightly. Bran kept a close eye as I finished eating a plate of pancakes. I picked up a few bowls of the porridge and went back down to the basement. Bran stole the bowls. “You need to sleep,” he said.

 

“I’m fine.” He stared at me. I sighed at him. “I want to get your son to eat something, as well as Ben.”

 

“I can-”

 

“I got it.” Bran raised his eyebrows. I shook my head. It had been a long day. I knelt next to Sam. He was barely awake. Bran took the bowl off me.

  
“Go see to Ben.” Bran touched my shoulder. “Get,” he told me. I went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reviewer asked me why Ash hadn’t just gone to Hauptman’s Pack when she realized that it was the Schatten who had Bran. At that point in time, she respected them, but she didn’t particularly trust them, and she thought they might threaten her Pack. She wasn’t trying to take all the credit or be all “only I can save them”. To her, it was like Harry Potter taking on Voldemort alone. Afterwards, it was part of the reason why she started working to introduce the packs to each other slowly. Ash is not technically part of George’s Pack, because she has a lot of the same problems that Samuel did. She is fond of people, but she has decent enough reason to be overly paranoid of people. She also finds it useful to not technically be George’s Pack for when she has to deal with other supernatural creatures. So yes, there is a reason for that.
> 
> I am insanely sorry about the lateness of this. I re-opened another fic, and sort of escalated from there. I also had school stuff to do (fuck the unit circle). I DID EDIT ALL PAST CHAPTERS! I didn’t touch chapter notes (because the notices haven’t changed and I like the random info). The ‘Last Time’ section didn’t get edited as much, but everything else did. Grammar was updated, and 99% of quotation errors were fixed (something around 600). So yes, I did revamp this a week ago, but y’all didn’t notice. Nothing of actual plot was changed, but some small things were fixed.
> 
> I write other things, a lot of other things. Some of these things are even *gasp* completed (although, they are waiting to be edited). I don’t do one massive update day, so if today the Ash fic isn’t updated, something else might’ve been (or not). I suck at entrepreneurship.
> 
> The researcher thing is more my thing, but feel free to pass on the message about bib cards and highlighters. I own Rule 666: if it’s on the Internet, I will find it, and yes, it’s the mark of the beast for a Reason (gas mask dildos).
> 
> Apparently I come back meaner.


	23. This is not the end of me (this is the beginning)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s getting close now, guys.

I got Ben settled. He had gone full Wolf. Adam kept a hand on him while I checked his bandages.

 

“Is he going to be okay?” Mercy asked from the doorway.

 

“Ben will be fine as soon as he stops fussin’. Sam is fine. Samuel might take some work.”

 

“Arianna is on her way. She apparently had matters with the Fae, something about the whole world possibly blowing up.”

 

“Ah, it was only about about the size of a small nuclear explosion.” Adam snorted. He’d barely kept Mercy from going, and it was only to prevent his daughter from tagging along. I glared at Ben. “You mind changing back so I can feed you some porridge.” He growled at me. I waved a spoon of the grey stuff in front of his nose. “Come on.”

 

He snarled but opened his mouth enough that I could plop some food inside. Adam stared at me as I continued to feed a feral Wolf. Honestly, he shouldn’t be shocked at this point. Adam kept a gentle hand on his wolf, trying to keep him relaxed still. I put the bowl down when I was done.

 

“Bran kick you out?” Mercy asked. I nodded bitterly. “It’s not your fault. It’s not Ben’s either.”

 

“I know that,” I said sharply. I know that, but it rarely matters what I know.

 

“Ash,” Charles called. “Samuel’s awake.”

 

I left hurrying back into the other room. Samuel was sitting up, leaning heavily on his father.

 

“I’m alright,” he murmured. I sighed at me. He winked. Bran was holding a bowl of porridge. I clutched at Charles’ shoulder, shaking. “I’m alright,” he tried to say but Bran shoved a spoon into his mouth. I grinned weakly. Charles helped me to a chair.

 

“Charles, help your brother.” I stared at Bran as he traded places with his youngest son. He braced me out of the chair and carried me to a cot, up against the opposite wall. Samuel watched us. “Easy,” Bran murmured, laying down with me. I shuddered, tucking my shoulder against him. I’d never felt more safe.

 

“I should die more often if they end up in bed together,” I heard Samuel mutter to Charles. He chuckled.

 

I fell asleep, breaking in Bran’s scent which was oddly comforting.

“Eat up,” Charles told his brother.

 

“Ben alright?” he asked instead, spoon halfway to his mouth.

 

“Yeah.” I poked gingerly at his injuries, making sure that he wasn’t bleeding.

 

“Thanks for the Change.” I pulled a face at him.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“It’s alright. Thanks for saving my life.”

 

“Try to not make it a habit.” He chuckled weakly. I meant it. Magic to help was one thing. Magic to hurt for the greater good was still another. “Get some rest.” I left because my hands were shaking and I didn’t know what to do. Charles glanced at me, but didn’t follow me out. Bran did.

 

“You’re not alright,” the Marrok said as he followed me to Adam’s door.

 

“I don’t know what to do. I saved everybody, the monsters are dead. George will handle those we rescued.”

 

“And you need time.”

 

“Yeah. I need to learn what I’m like when there isn’t a war going on. And you’re still fighting one.”

 

“And us?” He asked gently.

 

“I need time. I’m sorry, I know that I sound like Natalie Portman, but-”

 

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t fine. It wasn’t even close, but there was little I could do to change it at this moment.

 

“Can you wait?” It wasn’t even fair to suggest such a thing. this man that I finally saw without eyes of war.

 

“I’m over 900 years old, months aren’t going to matter much.”

 

“Thank you.” I hugged him tightly. Mercy handed me a canvas bag and car keys to a blue bug. George had left it. Arianna drove up. I drove away. That simple in the end.

**\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

It didn’t take longer than six months in the end.

 

I remembered all the times that we’d saved each other. The way that he’d slept with me, comforting me in an uncomforting moment. The crux of the matter was that I didn’t want to be in a boring life. I didn’t want to go down to the bar one day and meet a nice engineer who would marry me. I wanted somebody who had his own scars, who knew why I’d sleep with a gun under my pillow (and the lights off because this was not a teen movie) and still wanted me. I remembered mouse pancakes and a strong sense of family. Bran Cornick, it turns out, is a seductive bastard and I’d fallen in love with how he treated other people.

 

I drove up the road into Aspen Creek and right up to Bran’s house. He came out, wearing a pair of jeans and nothing else. He looked like he was an ad for Old Spice. I got out and met him on his porch.

 

“I made my decision, if you’ll still have me.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

“Obviously, there are still things to work out, but yes.”

 

“Yes?” He asked.

 

“Yes, I’ll marry you or whatever.” He grinned. I socked him in the arm.

 

“Shut up,” I muttered.

 

“All that soul searching and just ‘yes’?”

 

“Yes.” He swung me into his arms and kissed me gently.

 

I pushed him away for a second. “I am not going to be your second choice, your next Leah or Charles’ mother.”

 

“Never said you were, never thought you were. You’re my partner in crime, the only woman I could find who could keep up with me.”

 

“Well,” I said slowly. “Alright then.” And went back to kissing Bran Cornick.

**\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

** Epilogue- Christmas Dinner/ Winter Solstice, Six months later **

 

“Pass the turkey, would you?” Samuel asked by my shoulder. I passed the dish.

 

“Things good between you and my da?” He asked. Bran was out, dealing with Asil’s reluctance to come and meet people. He gets weird during holidays, apparently.

 

“Yeah. Charles and I are getting along even.” Charles saluted me across the table. “How’s the baby?”

 

“Fine.” Charles snorted.

 

He dealt with Samuel losing his shit over having a child on a daily basis. Ariana smirked, next to her husband. They worked well together. I smiled at the two of them. And no, I am still not okay that technically by human standards, they are my son-in-law and step-daughter-in-law. But I remained happy that their baby was healthy and Bran had gained a granddaughter. Fear that child’s dating life.

 

I’d had the joy of actually having to buy condoms in a small town. Yeah. I was on birth control, but come on, Bran is the Marrok. It would take another two years for that to stop, and Bran to start practicing his shotgun skills because he was going to have a daughter. But that hadn’t happened, not yet.

 

“How’s the sex?” Samuel asked, because he is a giant troll. I nearly spat out my beer. Nearly.

 

“It’s pitiful that we can’t find a dildo big enough to-” Don’t challenge a troll.

 

“Thank you,” Charles interrupted hastily. Samuel smirked at his younger brother. I tipped my beer to him and went to go hug my husband. He’d returned with a very reluctant Asil.

 

“There’s alcohol in the store room,” I told Asil. The feast was held in the pole barn, since it was the only space where everybody could squeeze in. Asil left. Sage followed him closely, keeping an eye on her mate.

 

It wasn’t perfect. Bran kissed me slowly on the lips. I squeezed his ass, and damn. It wasn’t perfect, but it came awfully close.

  
The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Change that, done. I couldn’t think of anything more to say so this is the end. I thought it would take another 3 chapters. It’s been along time since I started this plot bunny. It started as a conversation between thelightwithin and myself in school. Thank you for your support along the way. It would’ve been ended a long time ago without you. Happy Holidays.


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